


Three and a half Wolves (An ASOIAF Self-Insert)

by W1ngs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ashara Dayne Lives, Developing Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Not that much though, Other, R Plus L Equals J, Self-Insert, big bobby b, dont take it too seriously, ned likes men, quadruple self insert, serious but not that serious, stannis is the vilain, the song is broken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W1ngs/pseuds/W1ngs
Summary: Four friends find themselves talking about how they'd fare in the world of ice and fire, and destiny gives them a shove by transporting them into the world of Planetos. Hugo, Albert, Alex and Charles awake in the bodies of Ned, Robb, Jon and Theon, with all their memories and skills. From Dorne to Beyond-the-Wall, the song will be altered. Will they survive? What alliances will be made? Rated M for later chapters. Crossposting from FF.net and AH.com
Relationships: Arianne Martell/Jon Snow, Arya Stark/Trystayne Martell (slight), Edric Storm/Original Character(s), Robb Stark/Val, Sansa Stark/Willas Tyrell (slight), Theon Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 103
Kudos: 184





	1. Prologue: The Beginning

**Prologue**

It was finally the end of a long day. Online exams were over and I could finally rest on my sofa knowing there wouldn't be much to do now but wait for results and hope I got a passing grade on all my classes.

"Rough day?" came a voice on the other side of the room.

"Eh, could be worse, at least exams are over you know." I replied, "how about you Charles?"

"Could be worse as well, gave my project in this morning, hell of an uphill battle if you ask me." He answered. "Do you know where Albert and Hugo are at?"

"I reckon Albert is still on his PC while Hugo is likely finishing another book of his, probably Doyle this time around, you want me to call them up?"

"Yeah, I mean, we all finished our exams now, I think that causes for a little celebration, and while we can't go out and have a drink due to quarantine, we might as well celebrate here."

I agreed and went to get the two others. It had been a while since we'd been friends, beginning of middle school actually. We all graduated high school together, and all managed to get accepted into colleges not that far from each other, on very different subjects. And tonight, well it was the end of our third year of university, so we'd damn well have a small drink together before we'd all be going home due to the virus outbreak.

And we did, lying on chairs and sofas and talking about life, school and exams. There wasn't much to do apart from listening to what shenanigans they put up with or what videos they watched lately. Voices died down, until a voice spoke up.

"You know what I'd love right now?" said Albert, breaking the long silence, "that Martin could finally release The Winds of Winter so I'd have something good to read."

Hugo laughed. "You know the literary world isn't filled with Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones, there's much more you can explore, and like."

I finally spoke up, being the socially awkward guy, I wasn't used to speaking this much but whatever. "Hugo, I think it's damn time you got into reading those books. You've only watched the show and being a literature fan, I can't believe you still haven't read them."

"Not my favourite genre but I'll get to it eventually." He answered.

"Hey you might actually have something new to read on that matter, I've been stuck reading self-inserts and other fanfic for six years since I finished the last book." I replied.

"What's a self-insert?" said Charles.

"It's when an author decides to put himself in a character's shoes and goes on from there. A lot are actually pretty fun. I can give you a set of recommendations." I answered.

"Concept sounds fun. Although let me tell you, to survive in Westeros you might want to have a background in finance, history or engineering otherwise you're done." replied Albert "I mean if you dropped us four, a zoologist, a game designer, a computer scientist and whatever Hugo finds in his books, we'd be fucked."

"We'd be the goon squad." Hugo replied "Could be funny."

"Not that funny I think actually, but it'd be fun to see how long we last. Anyways guys I have to go to sleep, need to call my mom tomorrow to get tickets home."

With that I left the common room, got into my pyjamas and finally descended into a peaceful slumber  
The sunlight shone right into my eyes, waking me up slightly. Groaning, I pulled the pillow over my head to block out the incoming annoyance

Oh, come on, just another few minutes, what time is it?

I left my phone on the desk when I slept, and it could very well be past eleven by the intensity of the sun outside. I reached for it, but my hand went wide, straight into nothing.

For god's sake, where did I put it?

Struggling to get up and with mist in my eyes, I scratched my head. Wait a fucking second. I do have curly hair but to that point it's kind of ridiculous. Also why is my chin itchy? I could have sworn I shaved yesterday morning. God dammit, I guess I'll have to go shave now.

I lept out of my bed, and suddenly terror shook my body. This wasn't my room.

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Where am I? Did I get kidnapped? And hang on a second what in the name of god is this white stuff? I poked at it and suddenly it came to life revealing a pair of red eyes staring into my very soul. Shit.

Heart racing and I struggled to come back to my senses. This was a large room. Larger than my student accommodation for sure, by the looks of it. And damn it was decently furnished as well, but shit, I need a mirror.

I saw what seemed like a small glass on the corner of a large desk, and peaked into it. The reflection that stared back at me wasn't me. It was a man, bulkier than my skinny ass by a lot, with black curly hair strongly resembling…oh no… no no no no no no no I refuse. No. Please don't tell me I'm an SI. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Right I need to get out, calm, deep breaths. Oh, who the hell am I kidding.

I left the room totally panicked, so much that I hadn't changed out of my bed clothes, wandering around the halls of well…Winterfell, I guess. When suddenly I ran into someone.

"Shit." I swore. The man that had been pushed to the ground swore as well.

"Putain."

"What do you mean, putain?" I inquired.

"Uh no nothing." The man looked as terrified as I was. He was large, bulkier than me for sure, with a well-trimmed resembling…oh. It didn't take a long while for me to realize I barged head on into Robb Stark, my supposed brother, well no actually, my cousin. But what struck me about him was his short black hair resembling more Richard Madden than what the books described. Had I been dropped into the TV series instead? No matter for now, but I had to get to the bottom of that swearing.

"What do you mean nothing and how the hell do you know how to speak French?" I replied

"How the hell do you know what French is", Robb quickly answered.

Then the realization hit us like a truck. Oh no, oh no no this was hilarious.

"Hugo?" I whispered.

"Good try but it's actually Albert, you?"

"Alex, but please keep your voice down, if we get caught it's going to be a hell of a story to make up."

"You're good at making up stories though."

"Not good enough. Now as far as I'm aware you are Robb and I am Jon, understood?"

"Right."

"Right, and I'm Theon."

The sudden voice caught us by surprise.

"Salut, c'est Charles, dites…"

The man who had spoken bore not much resemblance to Alfie Allen from the show, meaning we were probably in the books, or so I hoped. Ignoring the rest of Charles' tirade, I was dumbstruck, the silly conversation we had, well, "yesterday" had suddenly come to life. There's no way in hell this was coincidence, no way both book Robb and book Theon knew how to speak French, let alone the german we used to double check his intentions. Robb/Albert and myself looked at each other and started laughing. Quickly Theon/Charles started laughing as well and we all turned into a group hug, laughing and nearly crying at the situation. We are so fucked.


	2. Chapter I: Taking Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three friends come to terms with what is happening

**Chapter I: Taking Hold**

**Jon I**

It had been a day since all three of us had been basically dumped into the unknown. A day since all three of them had started searching for Hugo, the last member of the group, with very little success. All of us ran around Winterfell interrogating people discreetly, but no luck, no one had understood the simple sentence thrown at them. Well Hugo hadn't read the books, so my guess would be that he wasn't inserted into the world of ice and fire. A shame really, he was probably the best out of us. I strolled down onto the courtyard. It was much larger than in the show, looking like a proper castle courtyard, with an armoury, and the sound of metal clinging and horses going through the gate echoing around his head. I snapped out of my fascination for my surroundings. I still had to figure out a lot of things here. How to fight would be a good start. Jon was one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms. I on the other hand, hadn't touched a sword in my life, and well if Jon couldn't handle a sword, it would arise suspicion. A lot of suspicion, that I didn't need whatsoever. I also needed to figure out where in the timeline I was. The age of Ghost gave an idea, I was after the encounter with the direwolves, but I had no idea of when the king would arrive, which meant time was running out to plan the rest of the future. Ned had to be stopped from going to King's Landing whatever the cost, the rest…well I didn't know. Shit this is bad. And then there was the issue of Bran, the Incest babies, Stannis, Renly… God dammit why was all that shit so complicated?

I stared on the ramparts for a moment. Sansa was there, accompanied by what I think was probably Jeyne Poole. Then I saw Catelyn. He had never seen her before, and when his gaze caught hers, I just knew why Jon wanted to go to the wall. That glare would freeze any human to the bone, and knowing Jon had to put up with about twenty years of these types of glares, well I could see why Jon would want to be gone from this place. Hell, I couldn't match her gaze for more than two seconds, this must have been literal hell for Jon these past years. I stood up from the haystack I was leaning on and continued walking through the courtyard, when suddenly a voice called me out.

"Mi'lord!"

I turned in surprise and saw Mikken, the blacksmith calling for me.

"Yes, what is it Mikken?"

"I have finished what you asked me to forge for you."

"May I see it?"

"Of course, here it is." Mikken pulled out a small sword from the shack and handed it to me.

I instantly recognized it as Needle, Arya's small sword. Having the original thing in my hands was quite the experience, but I couldn't let my gaze linger too long.

"It's perfect Mikken, thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"Why nothing mi'lord, you paid when you commissioned it, do you remember?"

"Ah yes, I'm sorry Mikken, I'm very tired, I haven't been sleeping well recently."

Mikken blinked in surprise. "Just like your father then?"

"My father?" I stood in surprise. "He hasn't been sleeping well?"

"No, I'm afraid not. For the past moon or so he hasn't stopped wandering around sending ravens and ordering things to be prepared for the king's venue. I reckon he is very tired and even Lady Catelyn hasn't talked to him in a few nights now."

"Ah thank you Mikken." I said, as I put the small sword on my belt. "One more thing, would you happen to know when the king is expected to arrive?"

Mikken smiled at that. "Oh well I think only two turns of the moon at this rate."

I smiled and nodded, turning away from the forge and back onto the courtyard towards the armoury. Two turns of the moon, that meant about two weeks. So much less time than expected. I need to talk to Robb and Theon, fast. As I walked back towards my room, I heard yet another voice calling me out.

"Jon Snow, how are you faring today?"

I turned in surprise to see a man that resembled Jory Cassel. Jesus, the memories from this guy dated from the first book, which I hadn't read in ages. Right, he's one of Ned Stark's guards but apart from that not a lot to go on.

"Good day Jory, how are things going?"

"I didn't see you training this morning, thought it was unusual, then I saw you going around the courtyard, is there anything bothering you?" the look on his face told me he was genuinely worried

"No, thank you Jory. Rough night 'tis all."

"Ah, I see. I know the perfect remedy for it, how about a sparring session?"

I gulped. I have no idea how to handle a sword, I've never touched one in my life, this was going to be brutal. But as I looked around, it seems that I had already drawn a crowd. Well a crowd was a big word. Bran, Rickon, and a shape I recognized as Arya secretly observing the soon to be duel. Shit. Well no backing down now, I guess. I picked up my sword, already thinking of what shitty excuse to come up with to deal with my defeat, but that's when it started going south. Instead of me controlling the sword, something pulled me forward.

What the hell?

My sword came onto Jory's in a thundering clash. Summoning strength I didn't know I had I suddenly began whirling around Jory, parrying his blows and looking for a gap in his defences. Raising his left arm, I seized my opportunity, as I twirled around once again, parrying his blow and quickly raising my own sword, swooping Jory from his feet with my legs and stopping my sword before it went crashing into his ribs.

"Yield."

"Damn Snow, I thought you were turning soft for an instant, but it seems you still hold that fire. Remind me not to think I can duel you even when you claim to be tired."

I helped him back up to his feet.

"Luck Jory, pure luck."

"Hah well you are the luckiest man alive considering how many times you made me yield these past weeks."

I smiled at the remark and made my way back to my room. Surprisingly, Robb and Theon were waiting for me, both sitting on chairs next to my small desk table. I lowered Needle carefully onto the said desk table, making sure I wasn't handling it improperly and making sure I wasn't damaging it in any way. It was to be a gift after all.

Robb stared at it for a moment before asking

"Is that Needle?"

"Yup."

"Can I hold it?"

"Don't break it mate."

Robb held the small sword in his hand, making sure to analyse it from every angle, before letting it back onto the desk as carefully as if he was lowering a feather. He then sat back down, taking a deep breath, before finally opening his mouth again.

"Damn Al…Jon that was some serious sword fighting you put there, where did you learn all that", said Robb dumbfounded.

"I have no fucking clue." Robb and Theon looked at me in disbelief. "It was like I was possessed. I've never held a sword in my life, hell when I unsheathed it, I nearly cut myself. And then…well then someone or something took over me. I had no say in what I was doing, I couldn't stop it, I just let it take hold of me. I felt the pain, the clashes of course, but I didn't feel like controlling anything."

Robb nodded. "Aye happened to me as well, I picked up a sword with Ch…Theon to see how the steel was made, and then out of nowhere my body made moves I didn't know I could make. It was as if someone had taken control of my body entirely."

"Maybe Jon, Robb and Theon still live in that body." Said Theon. "I know I have memories I shouldn't have like visiting…well I wouldn't say strange, but uncomfortable places. I've seen interactions with you guys that I know we didn't have."

I nodded. "So, we still have their memories, maybe they inhabit our mind somewhere, we have fused with them perhaps?"

"That would be my guess as well." Replied Robb "They're still in us, we only fused with them, not replaced them."

"Well that's just great then." I found myself saying. "We fused with some of the most influential characters in the series with no ability to survive in this crapsack word. Come to think of it, the irony is really strong with this one."

Theon looked confused. "How so?"

"Well for starters, Albert aka Robb over here has long told us how if he had been king in the north, he'd have done this or that differently and how Robb was an idiot and how Westerling was a mistake and badabing badaboom, here you go. Welcome Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell." Robb chuckled at that. "And then we have Charles aka Theon over here. Computer scientist and of course, big fan of the Targaeryens and weirdly, of all things naval in Westeros. Redwynes, Greyjoys, Velaryons and Stannis Baratheon. Jesus some houses I barely know the names of. And you're the only guy I know who likes Victarion Greyjoy of all people.

"Hey I don't like him okay." Robb and I blinked at that. "Okay, I do, I find him badass as hell, and Euron is a psychopath but he's also cool as hell."

"Exactly." I continued "And badabing badaboom, mister Greyjoy fan becomes the squid himself Theon Greyjoy."

"Aye, that's pretty straight forward" responded Theon "but how about you? You don't strike me as a Targ fan. Of course, you favour the Starks but so do we in general. Not to Robb's extremes but still."

Robb finally realized. "Ah I found it! It has nothing much to do with who Jon actually is but where he is from. Jon was born in Dorne."

"So? I don't remember Jon being vocal about Dorne ever, except…oh." said Theon.

"Yeah, it's ironic that mister I-know-everything-about-the-dornish-master-plan-the-sand-snakes-were-a-mistake-dorne-doesnt-exist-in-the-show has been transported to the only character in the north that was born in Dorne."

I nodded. "Bingo buddy. It's a stretch but it makes sense."

Suddenly a voice boomed from behind, silencing all three of us and forcing us to turn around.

"WeiBt du was keinen sinn ergibt?"

As we turned around, we realized who just uttered these words, and our faces started decomposing before our very eyes.

"Yeah you guys have gotten it easy, I've aged fifteen fucking years and I've been here for a fucking month wondering what the thundering hell was going on. Now you better sit the fuck down because we've got talking to do."

We continued staring before Robb finally broke the silence by laughing. Theon joined and it wasn't long before I joined in as well. Oh man we are absolutely screwed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, had this one in the bookshelves for a while now. The conversation is actually real, and occured a month ago before quarantine was enforced in the UK and was my inspiration for this story. I had thought about posting it earlier but was put off by certain comments on other stories. Therefore I'll give a few warnings beforehand:  
> A. This is my first fanfic, if I have stuff I can improve on, let me know, it will help me get better.  
> B. I've read ADWD recently but my other books reading starts dating back a bit, as such there might be characters I'm not on point with, feel free to voice your concerns.  
> C. The concept isn't really original, Stark SI and such, but I thought It'd be fun that instead of one SI we had four of the most useless professions in the world of Westeros.  
> D. Every SI has a reason he was dropped into one character and not the other. This will be explained in the next chapter.  
> E. Finally, myself am Australian, but Albert and Charles are both french and it is why we can talk like this to confirm our identities. Hugo is swiss and speaks fluent german and french, which is what I thought we'd use to reveal who we were. From now on I'll use the book names, but if you are confused:  
> Alex (Myself) = Jon  
> Albert = Robb  
> Charles = Theon  
> Hugo = well, you can probably guess.  
> That's it for the intro, hope you enjoy it nonetheless !  
> Also, Cross-Posting from so the 6/7 first chapters will come rapidly, then updates should be from 1 to 3 weekly


	3. Chapter II: Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned comes into the fray and arrangements are made.

**Chapter II: Decisions**

**Eddard I**

It was nearly a month since he woke up in Ned Stark's body. Hell, he didn't know what was going on until Catelyn had barged into his room with news of Jon Arryn's death. He would have fainted right then and there if a force in his body didn't take hold of him for a moment, forcing him to babble out an excuse to be left alone for a few days. This was bad, very bad. He didn't recognize half the people in the castle, and tried to pass it off as fatigue after the announcement of Jon Arryn's death. He'd been left alone in what he guessed was the book universe. Was that a cruel punishment for not having read them? Well at least he knew most of Season 1 and Season 2 were close enough to the books for him to not be able to fuck anything up. He had to deal with Robert coming though, although that wouldn't be a problem, the real problem would be to get an excuse to not come down to King's Landing. Then he'd have to take care of Bran falling out of the tower, and of the twincest affair. My goodness that would be a shit show.

And then there was the issue of Catelyn. Now he wouldn't have minded being married, but being twenty-two years old, marriage hadn't really been a focal point of interest, and well, there was the issue that he was married with a woman, where he would rather have had married someone of the same sex. Damn that would be a big, big problem. On top of that Catelyn knew her husband well, so he had to keep his composure and try not to make the "I'm mourning Jon Arryn" excuse last too long otherwise she'd get suspicious. In the meantime, he had to write a lot of letters and send a lot of ravens. Fortunately, Maester Luwin was fairly recognizable and getting him to send letters was a formality.

Sansa wouldn't be marrying Joffrey that was for damn sure, but that would be addressed when Robert came to Winterfell. In the meantime, he did have to talk to her and try to convince her of another match. He didn't know who though. He knew his friends had talked of a Willas Tyrell being a possible candidate if Joffrey married Margery but since he hadn't appeared in the show, well he was stuck yet again. He had however, sent a raven to the Dreadfort, requesting Domeric Bolton's arrival at Winterfell soon. He knew his friends had talked about how Domeric was poisoned by Ramsey early on and that a summon to Winterfell might have saved his life. After a quick round of interrogations as to whether or not such a person existed, he managed to get a reply from the Dreadfort saying Domeric was on his way and should arrive in less than a moon. Good, the further away from Ramsey the better, and if what his friend's words were true, then the Dreadfort wouldn't have a bloodthirsty backstabbing son of a bitch at the helm, he just needed to figure out a way to eliminate him from the picture.

Right then there was Arya. There is no way she would be staying here, since her education had stalled and the more leashes, she put on her, the more she rebelled. He had thought about sending her to Bear Island by Catelyn probably wouldn't have been receptive to the idea of her becoming a warrior. Riverrun? Arya would probably run away as well, and Edmure wasn't really the best companion. The Eyrie? Hell no, no way she was putting her between the clutches of the Lysa-Baelish couple. Stannis was out of the question as well, his strictness would be the end of Arya, and King's Landing was a no-no. That didn't leave a lot of options open. He didn't want to send her to another northern house as the education she'd receive wouldn't be better than what she had here, and Arya's desire for liberty and well…fighting wouldn't brood well with most lords. Well that left only one option, one that if he played it correctly, would earn him an ally to "replace" the Vale he knew now was on shifty terms. But then he had to talk to Catelyn about it…ugh.

There was also the issue of the Riverlands. If he didn't manage to do anything correctly, then he needed Edmure to know how to defend the area properly. He had sent a few ravens to the Blackfish and Hoster Tully in hopes of levying a few hundred more men and start drilling in case of a possible westerlander aggression. He doubted Hoster would respond favourably, but at least the Blackfish might consider it and push Edmure to not scatter his armies like a moron when the time came. For the Vale he couldn't do much either. Jon Arryn was poisoned by Lysa, that he was sure, but he couldn't do much without evidence. And then there was the problem of the walking ice picks in the north and the incoming wildling invasion, so many things to take into account and so little time…

He also hadn't talked to his sons in a while, save for Bran who he had to warn a few times not to climb the towers of the castle, but the boy would continue anyways. He needed to find a way for him to stop, but the boy was relentless. Then he'd need to talk to Robb about how it means to rule and teach him about basic politics, talk to Jon about…well maybe not his parentage yet, but at least enough that he'd be willing to accompany Arya to the place where she'd be fostered. Maybe talk to Theon about his family and how they all suck or something. It was on that fateful afternoon, after talking to Catelyn about Arya, with it going better than expected, where he'd decided to go and watch Jon and Jory spar for a while. He hadn't spoken to his sons, safe for a few words with Robb after Jon Arryn's death, and he knew they'd been suspicious. Catelyn had told him his sons were spending more time with each other and were speaking with Theon a lot more. He'd noticed them go into Jon's room, and decided to follow them discreetly and listen to their conversation. If they had noticed him acting erratically then he'd have to make an excuse about the Old Gods granting him visions or something and fast. However, the names they mentioned made him shudder for a while. Could it be? Then came the explanations. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Well they were right, in their full irony the Old Gods or New gods or ASOIAF gods had decided to put him into the body of a married man with a wife. Now that was straight up mean from them. As such he gathered his thoughts and opened the door, walking in and starting to speak in German.

"WeiBt du was keinen sinn ergibt?"

The three of them looked at him in disbelief, as silence suddenly filled the room.

"Yeah you guys have gotten it easy, I've aged fifteen fucking years and I've been here for a fucking month wondering what the thundering hell was going on. Now you better sit the fuck down because we've got talking to do."

**Robb I**

Well this was…this was terrible. All three of his friends had been teleported into a Stark, or in Theon's case, close enough to one. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but now Eddard, Robb, Jon and Theon were gone, replaced by four men in their twenties who have no experience about medieval combat, safe for Eddard who did a re-enactment of Agincourt once. As he started wiping the tears off of his face as he'd been laughing for a good minute now, his face suddenly narrowed back to seriousness.

"So, uh, do I have to call you dad now?"

As suddenly as the silence had fallen, Jon and Theon erupted in laughter once more.

"Fuck off."

"Right right I'm sorry. Well how has it been going with your wife?"

By this point Jon and Theon had tears rolling down their eyes.

"Hilarious. Actually, I haven't talked to her that much, been blaming it on mourning Jon Arryn's death."

Theon finally spoke up. "You do know you are going to have to do your "duty" at some point right? We can't arouse suspicion especially from Catelyn."

"Please no."

Robb also spoke up. "Well you do like Renly in the show, you just think about Loras Tyrell when you're doing it…"

"Right." said Ned suddenly "can we stop talking about my predicament and instead focus on the task at hand? I don't intend to go to King's Landing and have my head on the chopping block anytime soon."

Robb finally relaxed slightly. "Right, right I'm sorry. We do indeed have to talk, but first no doubt you want to know who is who here?"

Ned nodded.

"Right I'm Albert, Theon is Charles and Jon is Alex, now do not ever repeat those names, no one must suspect a thing, as far as you are concerned, I am Robb or son, Theon is Theon and Jon is Jon or son. Capice?"

"Yeah, oh man Alex is Jon? Now that's funny bec…"

"Wait, you mentioned having been dropped here one month before us. What have you been up to?" inquired Theon.

"Ah, a lot of things. Firstly, I recalled Domeric Bolton from the Dreadfort. He's coming here in a few days."

"Wise choice." Said Jon. "If he's like in the books he'll make a good ally, and we can get rid of the Ramsey problem."

"Yeah, I have you guys to thank for that. Talking about him helped me sufficiently here."

Robb spoke up again. "We need to break off Sansa's engagement to Joffrey, that must be a priority."

"That and not going to King's Landing." Replied Ned. "But yeah, we need to find Sansa someone else, and it's not going to be easy."

"Willas Tyrell is an option, but I doubt the Reach would be receptive" said Theon. "Robyn Arryn?"

"Robyn Arryn is a boy of nine and is a half-wit, and Sansa's cousin" said Robb "There aren't that many options, and I doubt Sansa will accept a northern husband either."

"This is going to be a mess to figure out yeah. Olyvar Frey perhaps?" said Theon.

"I'll eat my shoe before Sansa marries a Frey" Robb answered.

"Just asking buddy, calm down." said Jon.

"Peace, peace." Ned reacted. "Right, this isn't urgent, what is is to find an excuse for Robert Baratheon to accept me saying no to him for the position of hand of the king"

"And find a suitable replacement." Answered Jon. "The first part is actually easy. Tell Robert that there are 100,000 wildlings marching on the wall. An army of 100,000, emphasize that, and tell him the lords of the north need him to lead them just like you led them during the Rebellion. Say you didn't call the banners yet because you were scared of a panic right before Robert's arrival."

"Could work." Said Robb. "Also make sure to find someone called Bael the Bard. He should be wandering around Winterfell during the feast with the king. Take him outside as discreetly as possible and hold him there until the king is gone. This guy is secretly Mance Raeder and we will need him to persuade the northmen to bring the wildlings through the wall."

"Provided the northern lords don't kill him right then and there." Replied Ned.

"The northmen wouldn't breach guest rights, well all except the Boltons but right now they aren't a problem, do emphasize that as well" Robb continued. "You are also going to have to convince Robert not to name Tywin hand but that's another matter."

"I doubt he would name Tywin hand anyways, I'm more scared about him keeping Baelish or Varys or even Pycelle on the council." Replied Jon.

"I figured that he would actually." Said Ned. "Right, we figured that out. Of course, Robb, Bran, Rickon and Theon are staying in Winterfell that is a given. Sansa will also stay until I can find a suitable match for her. We can deal with Robert's shit later on when I've actually consolidated the north properly."

"I'd say you've done a pretty good job" said Jon jokingly. "No fuck ups, you've actually managed to save a life or two and you have a plan for the future. Well played."

"Uh yeah about that. I might have fucked up somewhere."

"Ah I knew it! What did you forget? Victarion Greyjoy? Garlan Tyrell?" exclaimed Robb.

"Worse. Uhm it concerns Arya." Whispered Ned. "I might have accidentally sent her to Dorne."

Jon laughed. "And let me guess? You thought that by marrying Arya to Trystayne you would lock Dorne in as an ally by making Arya the Princess Consort of Dorne?"

"That was the plan, yes."

"You do realize Trystayne isn't the first-born son, right? He's third in line, and I doubt Doran would accept the first ever same-sex marriage in the history of Westeros if you wanted Arya to become Princess consort. All you did was giving Doran a valuable hostage. Please tell me Doran hasn't answered positively to this."

"Oh yeah no I realised when I spoke to Catelyn earlier." Ned rubbed his hands on his face. "And well as for Doran, I got a letter from Sunspear yesterday, everything is already arranged."

"Wait you actually managed to convince Catelyn to send Arya to fucking Dorne?" said Robb, "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Oh uh, well I kinda promised some things, dug up stuff in Eddard's memory of when he brought Elia's bones to Dorne and talked with Doran and shit."

Jon was deadly serious now. "You know nothing, Ned Stark. Doran is a master manipulator, better than Tywin Lannister and Petyr Baelish combined, now if you think that he was honest with you then you are dead ass wrong."

"It was literally after his sister died" exclaimed Ned "There's no way he wouldn't have been honest then."

"Yeah he would totally have been honest with the man whose friend refused to enact justice for the murder of his nephews." Robb spoke up. "By the way, you talked about memories, how much do you have in there?"

"Pretty much everything from the Eyrie up to now, why?"

Robb leaned closer with a grin on his face. "Is R+L=J true?"

"It is." Ned said with no hesitation.

Jon breathed heavily. The others looked in glee.

"Right." Said Ned. "Now as I was saying, I'm sending Arya to Dorne but to convince Catelyn I had to make a trade-off."

Theon smiled "Oh I think I know where this is going."

"Shut up Ch…Theon. This is serious. I'm sending Jon to Dorne with her."

_SLAM!_ A huge sound was heard, and as Ned turned around, he saw Jon's face buried in the desk table they'd been sitting around. Jon stood still for a few seconds before raising his head and exclaiming.

"You fucking did what?"

"Listen Al…Jon. I didn't mean to send you to Dorne but it's the only way I had to convince Catelyn to accept this. You were to be Arya's sworn sword and in exchange I legitimized you."

Jon's eyes widened "You legitimized me…that's…everything I ever wanted."

All of them looked at Jon as his face widened this glee, before he suddenly put his hand on his mouth and returning to a very stern look.

"That…wasn't me talking."

"We figured." Replied Ned. "Happens to me as well when thinking about Lyanna. But back to the task at hand."

"I agree" said Jon. He said drawing a deep breath before shouting "What in the name of holy fuck were you thinking?"

"Listen since Arya and Jon were close, I figured I'd send both of them down to Dorne, and since we could be at war with the Lannisters eventually we might as well have Lannister-haters as allies to replace the Eyrie. And now that's even better because you are the Dorne fan here."

Robb looked at Jon, who felt like he was going to explode. Jon drew another deep breath before finally opening his mouth. "Okay now you listen very carefully because I'm not going to repeat it. I do like Dorne because I think the Dornish master plan is cruelly underrated and I hated the show for throwing it out the window. No more, no less. The Dornish hate everyone and everyone hate them, and they especially hate the ones who were responsible for Elia Martell and her children death's. Now I ought to remind you that Eddard Stark helped Robert Baratheon rebel and despite bringing back dead bodies to Sunspear, he is still considered responsible by much of Dorne for what happened to their children. Now you intend to send Arya, third in line to Winterfell, and me, sixth in line or depending on which way you are looking at it, the fruit of why the rebellion happened in the first place, and tell me what my average lifespan would be when I set foot down there? There are so many ways this can go south. Doran cannot move from his chair but if he decides I'm not useful anymore no one will find my body. Oberyn is called the Red Viper and the Master of Poisons for a damn fucking reason. Areo Hotah, Doran's guard, is more skilled than any of Robert's kingsguard bar maybe Barristan Selmy, and if that wasn't enough all of Dorne would hate me and I wouldn't want to wake up in a bed full of scorpions or snakes like that Tyrell lord during the days of the Young Dragon. So, I'm going to ask you again, are you out of your fucking mind?"

Ned grumbled while Robb and Theon were trying very hard to contain their laughter. Finally, Ned spoke up.

"Well you make good points but it's kinda late now, everything has been arranged."

Robb spoke up "Plus, now you can use this opportunity to warn the Martells about fAegon, and try to align them with Daenerys instead. Maybe even make Doran uncover proof about the prince's fake alias."

Ned raised an eyebrow. "Who's fAegon?"

Jon's anger suddenly disappeared and he sat back down, in shambles, before adding "Oh I'm going to fucking die."

"You'll be fine" Robb patted Jon on the shoulder. "Worst case scenario you won't die a virgin, I've heard the Dornish ladies are very complacent."

"Shut up."

"Right, now that this issue is settled, we have to think about how to deal with Robert on his arrival" said Theon. "Or does Ned here have any quests for us?"

Ned shook his head. "No, not yet anyways. Robb will follow me to the meeting with the northern lords after Robert leaves, and Theon will go to Astapor or Yunkai to bring Daenerys back." Ned raised his hands as Theon was starting to smile "But not till we've dealt with everything here. As far as I'm concerned as long as Robert lives, he is the king. If we bring Daenerys when he lives, it's to fight the walking ice sticks and nothing else."

Theon smiled gleefully before adding "Oh shit, meeting Daenerys and her dragons. Oh, shit that's awesome. Gonna have to arrive before Victarion though."

"Don't poison Robert for it though" said Jon.

"Ah damn, I had a lot of ideas involving hunting accidents" said Theon.

"Who is Victarion?" Ned raised an eyebrow. "Actually, never mind that, we have to think about how to deal with the twincest issue."

"Ah." Said Jon. "I think I have an idea for that. It will require some planning but not too much."

"One more thing before that." Robb interrupted. "If we want to stand a chance against the White Walkers, we need to turn Winterfell upside down for stuff. Search the rooms, the crypts, the library. Anything that helps us against them will be critical. Also, write to Stannis and tell him you want to buy all the dragonglass on Dragonstone."

"Already done." Said Ned. "Although he was surprised as to the use I'd make of it. In the meantime, I've also written to Lord Commander Mormont about being careful with sending ranging parties North and the use of dragonglass. He answered me but I doubt he believes me when I talk about the return of the Walkers. In any case I'd like him to be prepared for both wildlings and walkers. The first dragonglass shipments should reach Eastwatch in a few weeks."

"Good, we can talk about that later when we've turned this castle upside-down." Robb answered. "Now Jon what was your idea as to how to deal with the Lannister twins?"

Jon looked at them all, before speaking up. "Well it goes like this…"


	4. Chapter III: Winterfell

**Chapter III: Winterfell**

**Catelyn I**

The news that the king was headed to Winterfell had taken most of the castle aback. Since then her husband had had sleepless nights as he rushed around the castle preparing for the king's arrival. However, calm seemed to have returned for a few days, and everything died down, hopefully back to normal. Well, or close enough.

Ned had had finally time to mourn Jon Arryn, as a large ceremony and feast in his honour was prepared at Winterfell, with most of the northern lords attending. She didn't want to disturb him during these times, and when she had heard that her husband finally wished to speak with her after five days barricaded in his room, she leaped to her feet and rushed to her husband's solar. After opening the door, Catelyn saw that Ned was different from before. She didn't expect him to smile, but it seemed Ned had a sort of melancholy in his eyes.

She knew that from then on something had changed. Ned seemed different, he lied in bed with her but refused to do much more than kissing her forehead. She'd thought that Ned had had an affair, but…well he hadn't left Winterfell in weeks, how could this happen? Even spying on him didn't reveal anything. Ned kept to his room, only leaving to eat or go speak to Maester Luwin or the children. He hadn't been avoiding her, but he hadn't been looking for her either.

She thought that Jon's death and the announcement of Robert's venue north would have changed him of course, but not to the point of ignoring her for three full moons. Ned hadn't become cold, but stayed distant. Even Robb came to her to share his worries about his father, seeing as he hadn't been spending much time with him at all. Catelyn had told him that Ned was busy, but there was something else at play here, something she could not wrap her head around. So, when Ned asked her to come to speak with him in her solar, she was determined to know what that thing was.

Opening the door, Catelyn found Ned organizing several letters on his desk. Some seals she recognized, others were broken and unreadable. She turned her attention to her husband. His eyes were not as bright as they used to be. Life seemed to have been sucked from him as he stared at her with a mixture of sadness and melancholy in his eyes. These past moons had been overwhelming for Ned but now she understood how much. His eyes were red from the lack of sleep and his hands were slightly trembling, probably from the sheer amount of letters he'd been writing.

"Ned, how are you feeling?" Catelyn finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry Cat, I've had a terribly busy time, since the ravens came and…"

"You can always say no Ned."

"I will."

"You know he is your friend and…what?"

"I will say no. I will refuse him. There is no way I'm going down there and leave the north unprotected, but I have to do…other things, things regarding this letter."

He handed her a letter, bearing a broken seal of house Arryn.

"It's from the Eyrie", Catelyn looked in shock, her face decomposing the further she got into the letter. "It's from my sister, she says…she says the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn."

Ned nodded grimly.

"Aye, and that means that whatever they are planning, they are planning something. And to counter the Lannisters, we will need allies. Robert is king, yes, but we both know he won't be ruling, the hand will. And who will the hand be if I refuse him?"

Catelyn swallowed. "Tywin Lannister."

Ned continued. "Aye, Tywin Lannister, the man who butchered the Reynes, Tarbecks, Targaeryens and whose dynasty he now wants to secure. I won't let him turn the kingdoms to his personal fiefdom. And for that I'll still need to convince him of a suitable replacement for a while, but I can't refuse him eternally."

Catelyn nodded, then turned to him.

"What of our children?"

"Robb, Bran and Rickon will stay here in Winterfell with me. Robb will start to act as lord of Winterfell and I will bring him to the councils with the great northern houses." Ned responded, "although I still need to speak with him about some things."

Catelyn nodded once more, before adding "and Sansa? and Arya?"

Ned took out another letter from his bookshelf.

"Sansa will also stay here. The king does have plans to marry her to Joffrey but I won't let that happen either. The kid is a little shit and doesn't deserve our daughter, prince or otherwise. This means I have to find a betrothal soon for her and I'll need your help."

"I doubt Sansa will be enchanted with a Northern marriage. I could inquire to some southern lords I suppose." Sighed Catelyn. "and Arya?"

Ned took a deep breath, before starting. "Arya will marry."

Catelyn raised an eyebrow at that. "You found a betrothal for her?"

"Yes, and she is to leave as soon as possible, to be fostered at the same occasion."

Catelyn blinked in shock.

"F…Fostered? Ned…you can't mean it Arya is…"

"Look at her Cat. She worries me, she looks so much like her aunt Lyanna. She has the same temper, the same interests, she doesn't care about flowers or princes or ladies like Sansa does. All she cares about is riding a horse, learning to fight, she's her aunt reborn. And we all know what her aunt's rash actions caused."

Cat sighed. "I agree Ned, but, she's still my daughter, and I can't see her fostered away like this, she's too young."

"It doesn't enchant me to make that decision either, but just look at her. The more we try to get tough on her, she disobeys even more." Ned took a deep breath. "I don't want to be my father. Father tried to make Lyanna comply, but that only made her wilder, she felt restrained and she wanted to escape these restraints. And we all know what happened next."

Cat didn't budge for a few seconds, before adding, "You're right Ned, but where would you want to foster her? I doubt any northern lords would be better at educating her than you are."

Ned held on to the letter in his hands, before answering.

"No, not in the north. I've considered Bear Island but that won't do, it'll only funnel her desires of liberty. I need somewhere where she'll be free, but she would still have to focus on her education as a lady."

Ned handed her the letter. Catelyn opened it, and started reading. As she read, she felt her mind disintegrate more and more, until she felt the blood draining from her face.

"D…Dorne, you can't be serious Ned!"

Ned sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"It's the only place I could find that met the requirements. The dornish are less strict on the education of their daughters, but do not neglect their education and their duty. I considered Starfall but…" Catelyn stared daggers at him. "I considered it to be less suitable than Sunspear."

Catelyn stood up, and nearly shouted at him.

"Ned you can't send her that far away! The Martells hate us for our part in the rebellion, they hold us responsible for what happened to the Targaryen children, if you send Arya there, it'll be hell for her, she will be a hostage!"

Ned took her by the arms, trying to calm her down.

"Cat, Cat, calm down. It's true the Dornish don't hold us dearly in their hearts, but I've met Doran, long ago, during the rebellion, after Starfall. He is a good man, and we left on good terms. I promise you they do not hold Lyanna responsible for the actions that followed, and they do not blame us for what happened to the children, much less when they saw I was willing to cut ties with Robert on the subject."

Cat started shedding a few tears.

"Oh Ned, but did you have to betrothe her to Doran's youngest? It seems young to be betrothed, and…Arya won't like it. And…what will you do for her protection. It will be far away, and you need guards in King's Landing…"

Ned suddenly froze in place but continued talking nonetheless.

"You wanted good marriages for your daughters. Trystayne is…a prince of Dorne, just like Arya is in line to Winterfell. He is a prince of Dorne, its a good match, and Arya won't have to worry for another six or seven year about marrying him, enough time to get to know him better. As for her protection, I'll keep 25 of my own guard with her, and send Jon along as well."

Catelyn's eyes widened at that. The bastard of Winterfell, gone a world away, where she won't get to see Ned's living proof of his infidelity, won't get to harbour more resentment over him. That felt almost liberating, but Arya…

"You want to send him, with Arya? Ned I…"

"Jon and Arya have always been close." Ned interrupted. "I want her to go to Sunspear with someone she trusts, and someone who can be there for her when she needs it. Jon is the closest person she's ever been to in the family, and I trust him with that."

Catelyn swallowed. "I can live with that explanation, have you told any of them?"

Ned took a deep breath.

"No, I'll have to talk to them. Jon I can deal with although it won't be easy, Arya however…and I also have to talk to Robb. It's going to be a long month…"

Cat sighed and took her husband in her arms.

"I'm sure Robb will make you proud, as for Arya I doubt she'd resist your offer."

Ned nodded, it was a painful decision to make, one her husband likely spent several days making it. If it was the only way to make Arya come out in the right direction, so be it. But in her heart, despite how rebelling Arya had been, she'd knew she couldn't stand her daughter being so far away. Maybe, just maybe she could convince her husband not to send her away, and only have Jon sent there? Catelyn sighed as for the first time in fifteen years, she didn't know what to do.

**Eddard II**

The past few days had been pretty uneventful, as Winterfell was slowly beginning to prepare for the king's arrival, which was due in less than a moon's time. Ned had had to deal with Catelyn though, and that proved to be quite the headache. He had opted to slowly try and make his way through his duties as a husband, heeding his, well now sons, wards or cousin's advice, but he still had some difficulties. Not that Catelyn didn't help though, he had found his now wife actually fairly understanding, as he pressed the excuse of fatigue and memory loss from Jon Arryn's death. However, he couldn't use that excuse forever and would eventually have to stop being a wuss and go for it.

_Damn whichever gods but me here had a wicked sense of humour and might be laughing their butts off at my attempts to do anything with Catelyn._

At least things were going well elsewhere. It wasn't hard to reform links with his now children, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. They were children after all, and a switch in personality hadn't surprised them in the slightest, or if it did, Ned didn't notice it in their attitudes towards him. He'd talked extensively with both Sansa and Arya, but avoided the issue of marriage, something he'd dreaded to address with them until now. He'd tried to talk Bran out of scaling towers, but the boy was stubborn and kept doing so when he wasn't looking. He'd have better luck trying to convince Arya to become a septa. As for Rickon, the boy was three or four and didn't really need a lot of conversation so Ned just toom on the role of the father figure, something he'd already done for his own little brothers, so he didn't have a problem with that.

At least everything else was going smoothly for now. Domeric Bolton had arrived at Winterfell to become Ned's squire, and Ned had been struck as to how the young heir to the Dreadfort behaved. He expected someone like Roose, calculating and devious, but the boy was only polite and well-behaved, smiling all the time and having much success with the ladies. He'd even managed to make Sansa shed some tears after singing a few songs on the harp, but Ned was more impressed with the free talk that Domeric engaged with him. The Boltons and Roose especially were known to keep their thoughts to themselves, but Domeric was much more loose-tongued. He'd talked with him about how Domeric didn't adhere to his father's ideals and hated the flayed man banner of the Boltons and what it stood for. He wanted to change the ways of his house, and build foundations for something new. He also talked with Ned about his encounter with his half-brother Ramsey, who had tried to poison him while he was staying at his keep. Fortunately, Domeric was travelling with a few companions Ramsey did not account for, and his half-brother ended up poisoning one of them instead. Furious, Domeric's father had Ramsey stuck in a cage over the Dreadfort and left there to die of thirst and hunger. Domeric held no love for his half-brother, but it was this brutal way of execution that made him realize that House Bolton had to change, and Ned had only urged him on.

Ned had also met with several lords of the North: Manderly, Karstark, Umber, Mormont and Hornwood. He'd discussed with them the planned general meeting of the lords of the north once the king had left, and had discussed calling the banners due to the worrying news beyond-the-wall. Ned has stressed to the northern lords that this was confidential information and should not leave their mouths for whatever reason until the banners were called. In any case Ned had no intention of going to war, and mainly called these lords in order to see if they had any lands, they could eventually settle the wildlings on. The Gift and New Gift wouldn't be enough, and they needed more crops to be harvested before winter in order to feed the wildlings. Ned had been to Iceland, and saw that many crops could be harvested. He'd hoped for potatoes, but these were not available in Westeros, just like in medieval Europe. He needed winter-resistant harvests and instead turned to barley and maize, but both wouldn't be possible to collect in winter either. He had the idea to also import new crops from far away lands. A convoy had returned from Lys and Braavos, bringing exotic trades. If Jon was interested by the Ibbenese leviathan teeth and Tyroshi luth, Robb by the walrus coats of Saath and Ib, and Theon by the carved quartz of Norvos, Ned had been interested by a crop from Yi-Ti, rice. He'd asked the merchant if he knew how to grew it, and met Zhi Qiang, a rice grower and merchant from Yin, who had voyaged west in order to sell his crop. Many had laughed at the prospect of growing rice, but Ned took a keen interest and asked if the conditions could be met to grow rice in the Neck and around Moat Cailin, due to the humid conditions. Not only did Qiang answer positively, but he'd also grown a rice that was resistant to colder temperatures as so to be grown in the mountain regions of Yi-Ti. Ned had immediately commissioned him to grow rice around Moat Cailin for a start, while he would write to Greywater Watch to have Howland Reed allow for the crop to be grown south of the Moat. It had cost him a small fortune, notably to import growers and crops from as far as Yi-Ti, but having Vietnamese origins, Ned knew the power the crop had and its ability to feed many people at once. As such, he expected a return on his investment soon enough. Furthermore, to feed the wildlings, wells would have to be dug, houses constructed, lumber hacked and soil turned. It was a dauting task, and he would need the northern lords' cooperation as well as the wildlings. This would prove to be complicated. Although the Manderlys, Hornwoods and Mormonts seemed to be fine with whatever Ned said, the Umbers and Karstarks resented the wildlings as their lands were the prime targets of wildling raids as they crossed the wall. He'd need to talk to Mance as soon as possible, but Bael the Bard hadn't made an appearance yet. Ned kept his spirits high though, as he waited the king's feast where the king-beyond-the-wall would be sure to make an appearance.

He'd also discussed with them a plan to refurbish Moat Cailin. The castle had been an old ruin until then, and since it guarded the passage from Neck to the North, it needed to be reinforced. The northern lords had all agreed on this, and builders and materials had already been sent south to the fortress. He'd named Daryn Hornwood in charge of the construction, while he would send Theon once the banners were called and Hornwood needed to be recalled north. As for the lands surrounding the Moat, Ned hadn't any plans for them. He'd probably have given them to Jon if he hadn't already sent him south, so he needed a castellan for the Moat for the time being, but had yet to appoint someone, but that had yet to be high on his list of priorities. Right now, he needed to talk to Sansa, and as he recollected his thoughts, he knocked on the door to her room.

"Who is it?" a sweet voice inside the room answered.

"It's me Sansa." Responded Ned. The door then creaked open, revealing Sansa's figure. "May I enter?" he asked.

Sansa nodded with a smile before closing the door behind Ned, as she sat onto a chair and began sowing once again. Ned eyed her before taking a seat himself, before speaking.

"It looks lovely Sansa." Sansa smiled and blushed slightly. "You are growing into a true lady." A far cry from the later seasons Ned thought.

"Thank you, father."

"Listen Sansa, you are growing and as you start to approach the age of marriage, I'd like you to listen to some advice." Sansa raised a brow before putting down her needlework.

"Do you wish to reveal to me who I'll be betrothed to?"

Ned blinked but continued. "No, no I think it is too early for that. You are still young and I haven't decided on a match for you. But know this Sansa, if you do not wish to marry the man I matched for you, I will not force you to marry him. Tell me whenever you wish that you want an end to the arrangement and I will break it off, alliances be damned."

"But…"

"No buts Sansa. Your happiness comes before anything else here. If your husband mistreats you or you are unhappy. Tell me and I will take action."

Sansa nodded. "Thank you, father."

Ned smiled. "One more thing, Sansa. Do you know your mother's house words?"

Sansa looked confused. "Of course, father. Family, Duty, Honour."

"Aye. Exactly. There is an unsaid part about it though." Sansa looked confused "It is, in that order. It means that family will always come first. If your honour comes in the way of defending your family, renounce it. I had to do so several times during the rebellion." Ned winced at that before continuing. "If your duty to your betrothed or any other person comes in the way of defending your family, disregard your duty, protect your family Sansa. Me, mother, Robb, Jon, Arya, Bran and Rickon are your family. No matter how some may tease you or mock you, they still love you. Every one of them. They are your family, the only one you will have until you have children of your own."

Sansa opened her mouth to speak but Ned interrupted her. "I want you to promise me Sansa, that you will always put our family first. No matter how hard it may seem to you to go against your honour or your duty, you must promise me that. The pack must survive Sansa."

Sansa looked deep in thought before nodding sadly. "I understand father, I promise I will."

Ned smiled once more. "Good, and once more, if you need anything, talk to me or mother. We will always be there for you, do not forget it Sansa." Said Ned as he rose to his feet and walked out the door of Sansa's room.

Once outside, Ned breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Well that went well, now onto the tricky part.

**Theon I**

The cold hit him again like a rock. Walking in the courtyard wasn't Theon's favourite thing recently. It wasn't for the occasional squid insult or some guard telling him the girls in the brothels were asking if he was sick or incapacitated, but Theon just couldn't acclimate himself to the sheer drops in temperature of the north. And it was only going to get worse from here. At first, he was excited to possibly accompany Ned and Robb during their expedition to the wall, but a few walks outside the castle and Theon had emitted serious reserves for the journey. Instead, he was to travel south, to Moat Cailin. Not as south as he wanted to, but before going to Meereen this would have to do. Overseeing the construction of the towers of the fortress would be quite a task, and although Theon had the aid of several experienced builders, he still had a lot of catching up to do on the inner workings of constructing a castle. Several courtiers and guards had been surprised to see Theon reading books about sieges, castles and raids instead of doing other activities expected of him, but he had waved them off quite easily. Since he had no plans to betray Robb here, there was no need to put him on a leash and Theon enjoyed it, but the lords of the north would probably ask for Ned to give him a few loyal Stark guards just to keep him from doing anything stupid. Not that he could blame them to be honest, he would as well, but the thought of having these armed people constantly on his back would be a pain in the ass for the fortnights to come.

Finally, Theon found the crypts, where he enjoyed some peace and quiet compared to the bustling activity in the courtyard. He, Robb and Jon had been turning the crypts upside-down for information, hidden artifacts or any indication on how to beat the Others, but so far, the search had yielded little results. A few dragonglass swords had been discovered on a ledge overlooking a few graves, along with a piece of parchment, but that fragment had proved to be unreadable and in a weird dialect that Maester Luwin suggested was that of the first men, although with the decomposition state of the paper, he wasn't sure. Aside from that, a few old shields and swords were discovered but not much else. Robb and Jon had scoured the library, and although they found some old records, they didn't lead all the way back to the Long Night. Ned had sent a raven to Castle Black to ask Maester Aemon to scour the old library for records, and had suggested he take Samwell Tarly, one of the new recruits that just passed the Neck, as an apprentice when he arrived, and to send a raven to Winterfell as soon as he found something. The search of the Winterfell underground was a bit more successful, with new passageways being discovered, although some had been blocked by rocks for hundreds of years. A few cages were found, empty of any contents, and sent to Castle Black for "analysis". Theon chuckled slightly as imagining Castle Black as the laboratory of Winterfell, but if there were people that knew what sense to make of these artifacts, it was probably them. The search also uncovered a few hot springs Winterfell was built on, and that Theon had enjoyed when he needed some time alone.

As he sat next to one of those springs he named "Winter's Warmth", Theon began to think once more. The memories of old Theon had still been haunting him, as he remembered the Iron Islands, the Castle of Pyke, and the pain of leaving his family, never to see them again. These had intertwined with his own as he said goodbye to his own family, hopping into a taxi and leaving for university, once more to never see them again. He wondered about them, what had happened to his "old" body? Was he dead or just in a weird dream? Everything certainly felt and looked real but he couldn't feel that deep inside some of his actions and thoughts were not in his control. He had nightmares about his family taking shape of Theon's own, with his father's face slowly merging into Balon Greyjoy's. He saw his uncles putting on masks looking like Euron and what he suspected was Victarion, all looking at him silently, judging him. Theon shook his head violently. He knew he couldn't let old Theon's thoughts overcome him, or he might end up doing something really stupid. He knew he now had a part to play in what was to come. First fortify Moat Cailin, then go to Essos, bring back Daenerys and her dragons, persuade her not to burn Westeros to a crisp when she comes back, try to convince her the dead men walking are real, beat the walkers and then…then we'll see. Maybe he'd settle on a keep somewhere, or travel the world. Theon had always been fascinated by the world of Planetos. He wanted to see the golden cities of Yi-Ti, the jungles of Sothoryos, the majesty of Volantis, the unexplored regions of Ib, and of course, what was west of Westeros. Theon smiled but recollected himself. There was a long way to go before that could happen, a way that would hopefully see them not become walking icicles and for that, Theon needed to control himself.

As Theon recollected his thoughts, he started to feel the warmth of the springs reach his body, enveloping him in a blanket of sorts, as he closed his eyes once more and started to think once more. He wondered about his friends, what would they do? Ned basically had aged fifteen years, what would happen to him? He knew his friend wouldn't be able to keep the act up for long, maybe he could try and give the North to Robb and retire at Winterfell or wander around Westeros? He knew Robb wouldn't want that many responsibilities dumped on him too early either, yet he would be destined to inherit Winterfell and become warden – or maybe king? – of the north at some point. And then there was Jon. He knew Jon wouldn't want to become king of the seven kingdoms, hell he was frightened at the very idea of managing Moat Cailin, but how long would the secret of his parentage hold? He was legitimized, or well on the way to be, meaning he would also have a claim to Winterfell, and people would then ask questions about her mother, whether or not she was a commoner or not. Theon knew that tongues would eventually start to undo themselves one way or another and then, well Jon would be in a sticky situation, and that's not even counting on the situation he finds himself in right now. Theon opened his eyes once more. Well, maybe he had it easy after all.

**Jon II**

I threw my sword on the courtyard ground in frustration. Another fight that I'd won handily but it was another fight where I wasn't in control. Damn it, I'd try to fight the movements but to no avail, I just couldn't stop them. I cursed under my breath again. Having these sword skills was of course useful, but the day where they would let me down could be anytime, and I didn't want to be caught unaware, and for that I'd wanted to start learning a few moves by myself. But it wasn't counting on the inner force in my body which just didn't let me have a proper fight just by myself. The furthest I'd gone without it taking over me was a few swings on a dummy in the courtyard, but that was it. Damn, this was also tiring. I wasn't much of a sports guy, I enjoyed biking and the occasional soccer match but I wasn't doing sports often and my muscular mass in my arms was very close to zero, and now well I'd just gotten a massive upgrade with no idea how to properly take care of it. Added to that I also hated the taste of wine, which made it difficult to properly hydrate myself as water wasn't as readily available. Now though, I always carried a flask of water with me during these sessions. Drinking a big gulp from said flask, I sprinted back to my room and collapsed on the bed.

Closing my eyes for a second, I felt the cold air fill my lungs again, while the sweat dripped from my hair onto my face. Damn, I needed a shower, well a bath at least. I sighed heavily knowing I wouldn't be able to get one before the end of the day, and it was barely past midday. I looked around my room, looking at a sleeping Ghost, before looking towards the edge of my bed, taking the luth I bought from that Tyroshi – or was it Lyesene? – merchant and starting to fiddle with the strings. The sound wasn't exactly one of a guitar, but with a few more modifications and a string replacement or two it could do the job nicely. I'd already managed to get a good acoustic version of Scorpion's _Rock you like a hurricane_ validated by Theon and a good render of Johnny Cash's _Hurt_ although I likely fumbled some lyrics on the latter. With a bit more practice I could start modifying the songs and put them through the Domeric Bolton critique test, as the heir to the Dreadfort seemed quite skilled with the harp and could likely share a trick or two, he'd had to try. Suddenly, a sound reverberated across the room as a knock was heard on the door.

"Who is it?" I let out.

"It's me, Ned. Can I come in?" the voice answered.

"Feel free to do so."

The door creaked open as Ned's figure came into view. He looked around before dropping his eyes on the luth.

"You managed to transform it yet?"

"No, but I'm quite close to it." I answered. "But you haven't come to me to discuss guitar acoustics, what brings you here? A problem with a name you don't recognize? I thought we brought you up to speed with everyone?"

Ned sighed before adding "Nothing to do with a northern lord, thank god. No, it's worse. It concerns Arya."

I suddenly looked panicked as the blood started draining from my face. "Something has happened to her?"

Ned shook his head. "She isn't hurt or anything if that's what you are asking. I've just told her the news."

"Ah and now you want me to go try and make her agree to it. You know I don't really have that sort of power."

"Arya loves you, even in your new form. Since you gave her Needle she was over the moon and she loves whenever you take her on a tour of the castle or try to teach her how to use Needle."

Jon smiled. I had had time to retry to form a bond with my would-be brothers and sisters, and one thing was for sure, it was that Arya was definitely the best out of everyone. Sansa was boring and hated me, Bran was always in kahoots with Robb and Rickon was four. That left only Arya, and luckily just like me she wasn't much of a social person, so it was easy to talk to her, although she did notice some shifts in personality, but didn't follow up on them. I was taken out of my thoughts as Ned continued his speech.

"Please talk to her, Jon. She knows you are coming with her but I don't want her to flee from the castle or cast herself from one of the towers or try and swim to Braavos for that matter."

I nodded. I knew this wasn't going to be an easy task but it had to be done. Ned and I exited the room together, as I left my luth on my bed, heading towards Arya's room. Arriving there, I knocked several times before a voice was heard, sobbing in the distance.

"Go away!"

Wow she really had taken it badly.

"Arya it's me, Jon, please let me in."

The voice then answered whimpering. "Wait a moment…Now you can enter."

I pushed the door forward as it unlocked, making sure to close it as soon as I entered the room. There I saw Arya, tears in her eyes on her bed, with red eyes looking like she cried for a good hour or so. I took out a small cloth out of my pocket and handed it to her, as she dried her tears. Shit I didn't sign up for this, I'm the worst when it comes to diffusing family situations.

"Calm down Arya, I'm here." Was my pathetic attempt at soothing her.

"Did you know?" Arya asked, with tears still in her eyes.

"Not until today." I answered. A complete lie of course, it had been a week or two already.

"And it doesn't affect you at all? That father decides to send us to the edge of the world?"

"Of course, it does. I'm just better at hiding my emotions…but I thought you wanted to see what was beyond Winterfell."

"I do!" exclaimed Arya. "I just imagined it to not be like this. Especially not since father decided to marry me to some southern idiot."

I chuckled slightly. "Well you won't have to marry for another eight or so years so you don't have anything to worry about that and besides…" I pointed to Needle. "If he's too much of a hassle you can still show him what it means to stroke a direwolf the wrong way."

Arya smiled slightly but remained grim. "I just…I don't want to leave Bran and Rickon. I don't want to leave Robb or Jory. I don't want to leave mother or father. I…I just want to stay home."

I bent down to her level and looked her in the eyes. "Listen to me Arya, at some point we all have to go somewhere to come back to the ones we love. It only enhances your bond. You'll see that you will even learn to like Sansa this way and besides, Dorne isn't the worst place for you. You'll still be able to practice with Needle and you won't have that strict of an education. You might even grow to like it there."

Arya sighed. "I doubt it."

I recollected myself slightly. "Arya look at me. I'm coming with you, do you understand? You are not alone; you never will be. If you need anything, I'll be there to protect you."

_Oh really? You don't even know how to use your damn sword._

"If you need a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to, someone you need to talk about stuff going in your life, you can always talk to me, I'll always be there Arya, I promise."

_Oh man no promises please._

"Remember what our house says? The lone wolf dies…"

"The pack survives." Arya answered.

"Exactly Arya." I replied. "We are a pack, we protect each other, we keep hold of each other, we help each other. A new place isn't going to change that, be it Winterfell or Sunspear, Castle Black or Volantis, Highgarden or Braavos."

"You promise?"

"I promise"

She then lunged at me, hugging me tightly. I returned the hug and closed my eyes. And now I had one more responsibility I knew I couldn't keep. Great, this is going fantastic. Well at least the king was due to come in a moon, so things should take an interesting turn and we will finally have some good news to feed on. If it goes according to plan anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First attempt at a Chapter with an outside POV, which is the reason it took this long to write. My knowledge of the first books dates a little, and most of what I remember from Catelyn is her Stoneheart version, so I am not entirely satisfied with her POV here, feel free to tell me what you think about it. For the other chapters, they are setups for what is to come. The next three chapters should deal with Robert's arrival in Winterfell so events should accelerate slightly, but updates will stay weekly despite switching back to 3 POVs per chapter. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless.


	5. Chapter IV: All the King's Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king arrives at Winterfell. Hilarity ensues.

**Chapter IV: All the King's Men**

**Jon III**

Today had been a hectic day. The final preparations for the king's arrival had been made as he was expected to come in tomorrow. That plus the housing of all the northern lords for the meeting of the banners right after the king's departure, and what we now called "Operation Bust the Lions" finishing touches. All of that required a lot of work, and I don't think I craved for a bed that much since I'd been transported here. I instantly closed my eyes, going into a deep slumber, half expecting to be dreaming of Ghost, again, but found myself trapped in a black room instead.

Huh, this isn't right. I looked down at my arms and saw that there were no longer muscular but rather skinny. I touched my body once more…wait, I'd regained my normal body, so was this all a dream?

"About damn time" a voice echoed from across the room.

"Who are you?" I answered.

"The real question is who are you?" the figure stepped out of the shadows as his face finally became known. He was…me. Well not me me, not old me but new me. Jon-me I guess?

"That's not really important, I doubt you'd know me, Jon." I emphasized the last words as his eyes started twitching.

"It has all his importance!" he screamed "You stole my life from me! One day I'm in my body and the next I'm only a conscience in here, and another part of me transported to another body…"

"Well as you can see, I didn't really get a say in all this. And why now?" I asked "I mean that's cool and stuff by why now and not the day I woke up?"

"As you can see the past month has been…overwhelming."

"So, you inherited my own memories I see. You been coping?"

"Coping is a hard word; how would you react if all of your world had only been a book written by an old man in a world with all…that? How would you react when you'd seen your future and that of your family revealed? Your real father, your real mother, the lies of the man you called your father, the fates of my…my family. How would you react then?"

"I'd ask how shit the book would be, I mean look at me, I'm a third-year biology student, my life is boring as shit mate. I'd say any person's story 100 miles around is more interesting than mine. As for the rest, I agree it does sound overwhelming, but I'm here to fix this, I'll make sure nothing of this ever happens, I made a promise." I inhaled as I thought of the promise I'd made to Arya. I'll always be there, I'll protect you, no one will harm you. For fuck's sake what was I thinking? I turned back to Jon. "But do tell, you are my conscience, right?"

"More or less."

"Good, so I'm dreaming this?"

"Dreaming me? Yes and no."

"Perfect, then I have control, let's change scenery."

With a click of my fingers, the dark room suddenly disappeared, unveiling a beach lining on a huge skyline, with people moving everywhere, the noise soon becoming quite the annoyance.

"With less, actually, with no people please."

The people suddenly disappeared, leaving only me and Jon on the sand.

"What the-" he started before I interrupted.

"Welcome to the Gold Coast. It is lovely at this time of the year and I think we'll be better suited to talk here rather than in a dark space. Right, so what do you want to talk about Jon Stark? Or should I call you Jon Targaeryen?"

Jon's face froze as the scenery unveiled around him, staring at the tall towers behind us, before turning back to me as the last sentences escaped my mouth.

"Snow. My name is Jon Snow."

"Not anymore. The king legitimized you, remember?"

"Aye, I remember, but I can't call myself that, I never was called that, that name is now yours."

"Right so you've dragged me into a dream and me thinking you had important information to give me you are just gonna say useless stuff like that?"

Jon's face twitched again. "I wanted to see who you were, who the gods chose to replace me with. And now that I see you, I'm disappointed."

"Me too."

"What?"

"I mean I'd be disappointed if I were you too. I mean who did they get to replace me? A skinny twenty year-old who's never held a sword in his life, who's only knowledge about medieval times relies in his knowledge of European history in broad lengths, who isn't particularly ambitious or athletic, and who's knowledge about your world relies on books written by some guy of whom only one book I've read recently, yeah I'd be disappointed too."

Jon tried to speak but I continued.

"But that's the way of the world. I don't know how or what or why but it's done, and I'm damn well going to try and avoid getting myself killed and try to save your crapsack world."

"You are going to Dorne, how can you change things when you are in Dorne?"

"Life always finds a way, Dorne is closer to King's Landing than Winterfell, there will be things to do, provided I survive."

"And Arya does too."

"Well that depends on you."

"What do you mean?"

"You gained control of me when I held that sword against Jory."

"I didn't want you humiliated."

"Good. I'd like you to stop doing that kind of shit."

"What? Why? You can't hold a sword properly! How can you defend Arya like this?"

"I can't and that's the problem. I'd like to avoid being dependent on my conscience as to matters relating to my defence. The day you won't be here to defend me I'll be completely and utterly fucked."

"I see where you are going with this, but I still cannot let you. You'll get us both killed, you need training and we don't have time."

"Oh, it's we now?"

"Like it or not, we are together in this, I still live on through you, and I'd like you to keep on living so I can as well. I can try something else. This is your dream correct?"

"It is."

"Perfect, summon swords."

"What? I can't really do that."

"Really, can I then? Hang on. Hey, can I please have two sparring swords."

Suddenly two swords dropped onto the sand. Jon picked one up, while I rose the other one, the sand dripping off its edges.

"Huh" Jon reacted, looking at his sparring sword. "Well it seems your dream world is surprisingly helpful. Right, I can't let you fight without me in the "Real World" but I can teach you in your dreams. How does this sound?"

"How will I even remember? I don't remember all my dreams"

"You will, dreams are curious things, you only remember the most important ones. I remembered every time I dreamt of Ghost, you also do considering your memories."

He wasn't wrong. Before this impromptu interruption he'd been expecting to dream about Ghost again. Warging was a curious thing, but when used correctly it could be really useful. As such he'd tried several times, and had begun to meet some success when he managed to stroll as Ghost for a few minutes. He'd also been scared out of his mind while doing so, but he needed practice.

"Warging and learning how to fight aren't exactly the same thing." I answered

"If this is important to you then you will remember."

"How do you know anything about dreams?"

"Well if you hadn't noticed I had time to think these past few days. This is the only way I can see to train you properly with you remembering most of what I'll teach you."

"The North remembers." God I always wanted to say that.

Jon narrowed his eyes before grinning. "Good, then remember that as I am part of you, I can also read your thoughts."

I stopped and the blood drained from my face.

"Y..you can?"

He laughed. "Well most of them, but don't worry, who will I repeat them to? Now first lesson, how to correctly hold your sword, watch me…"

As we both drew swords, a raven flew in the distance, cackling in something resembling a laugh, flying into the sunset.

**Eddard III**

Ned breathed a sigh of relief; everything was finally ready for the king's arrival. The Baratheon party was seen only a few minutes away and everything was finally ready. All of the family was standing at attention in the courtyard, with Jon making the notable addition next to Rickon, last in line. Ned had spent the whole day calming Catelyn down about legitimizing him and showing him as a member of the family to the king, but had managed to come to the compromise of him sitting last in line. Ned breathed once more; the horn had been blown as the king's party entered the courtyard.

It was a magnificent sight. Men in armour were galloping forward, carrying the king's banner. The crowned stag was everywhere, on shields, banners and breastplates, Robert certainly did not joke around when it came to his and his family's protection. The knights came in first, with the hound and his dog-faced helm, and the kingsguard second, white cloaks flying in the wind. He didn't recognize some of them, but Ned smiled as he saw the face under one of their helms, Ser Barristan Selmy.

Ned had written to the king about bringing Selmy along. He hadn't been present in Winterfell in the original time, but Ned wrote to Robert asking for Barristan to come as part of his guard. Officially, because he wanted to see the man that had given him so much trouble on the Trident, and because Bran idolized him and wanted to grow up to be like him. That last part was true indeed, but Ned hoped that Barristan's company would stop Bran from scaling towers during the king's presence, and of course, Barristan had his role to play during Operation "Bust the Lions". A stupid name, Ned preferred the name Operation "Save the Day" but his friends just thought it was lame and he was overridden. Robert had accepted, and sent Barristan on a ship to White Harbour, and he joined the Royal Procession at Castle Cerwyn.

Then after the kingsguard came the royal procession, the wheelhouse of course, likely containing the Queen and her two younger children, then prince Joffrey on top of his own horse. Damn the kid had a punchable face if he ever saw one. He turned to Sansa for a second, noticing her gaze did not budge from the rest of the procession. Good, that boy won't torment Sansa. He'd told her the day before that he'd arranged a betrothal to Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden. It had taken some convincing to do on Ned's part, but he did emphasize to Mace that with this, Joffrey did not have any betrothals that Robert considered. As for Sansa, well she was overjoyed to the fact that she'd see Highgarden and the Reach and could barely sleep that night. Ned promised her she'd meet her soon-to-be husband soon enough, possibly at the future tourney Robert would organize for him, or well in this case, his replacement, which was also part of the deal with Mace.

After the little shit came the king himself atop his horse. Ned did see where all the rumours of the king putting on some fat came from. Of course, Robert still maintained a magnificent beard and had some youthful looks, but man was he a bit overweight, putting it politely. He needed help to get off his saddle, and his royal walk was more of a waddle. Well, now it was his time to shine. At the sight of the king, the courtyard knelt, Ned included, until the king's gaze met his. Robert extended a hand, and with a quick flick, motioned for Ned to stand. Ned did, and as such the whole courtyard stood as well. Ned finally broke the silence and tension rising in the courtyard.

"Winterfell is yours, your grace."

The king did not smile and instead looked Ned as if he was examining him. Shit, did he realise something was going on? Oh no this was bad.

"You got fat." The king finally said.

Ned breathed a huge sigh of relief internally. Thank god. Now it was time to put some show knowledge into action, as Ned just flickered his head at the protruding belly of his king. Robert instantly laughed, and Ned followed suit. The two men quickly embraced, as Robert continued down the line, greeting the Starks, embracing Lady Catelyn first of all.

While this was going on, Ned noticed Cersei and her two younger children, Tommen and Myrcella, stepping out of the wheelhouse. Ned raised his eyebrows, that Cersei was quite beautiful, he hadn't really been a fan of Lena Headley's looks in the show, but this one had true blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed to be able to freeze everyone present. No wonder she was once called the most beautiful woman of the seven kingdoms. Once. Well one moment she was there and the next she was in front of him. Ned knelt to her, and kissed the ring on her finger.

"My Queen." Ned said, as he rose once more, barely noticing Robert greeting Robb and Sansa next to him as he felt the urge to throw up. The king then exchanged a few pleasantries with Arya, then Bran, keeping the solider line. Well hopefully Bran will get to chase his dreams this time around, as his gaze wasn't as much on the king as it was on the kingsguard surrounding him. The king then greeted Rickon by rustling his hair, and finally stopped in front of Jon. Once more Ned held his breath but it wouldn't be for long. Robert greeted Jon with a simple

"And you are the last of the Starks hey boy?"

"I am, you have my eternal thanks your grace." Jon replied

"No need to thank me, you are a Stark as much as your father, you share all his looks. Be proud of it, boy."

Robert turned back to Ned, and spoke up once more.

"Take me to your crypts, I want to pay my respects."

Cersei's face immediately darkened as she quickly answered.

"We've been riding for months, my love, surely the dead can wait."

Robert instead looked at her in contempt and urged Ned to follow him. Ned only managed to launch an apologetic glance at Cersei before following Robert to the crypts.

The walk down the hallway was long and painful, but Ned did manage to creak a few jokes in that made Robert chuckle. He felt his heart beat faster and faster as the two of them finally reached Lyanna's grave. Finally, Robert turned to Ned and told him very seriously.

"I need you Ned. I need you in King's Landing, not up here where you're being no use to anybody." Ned flinched. It's go-time, don't fuck it up. "Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King."

Right, now's the moment. Ned knelt and kept his head low.

"Your Grace, you do me a great honor…"

"I'm not trying to honor you Ned. Dammit, stand up, will you?"

Ned rose back to his feet.

"You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep it."

Ned breathed in.

"I'm sorry Robert, I can't."

"What? Ned quit your nonsense, what good are you here?"

"Right Robert, this is very important and is as of now a secret, I need you to keep that secret as it is very sensitive information."

"Keeping secrets from your king? Oh, come on Ned, you know me better than that, you can trust me. If you called me Robert, it must be important."

Ned nodded. "Did you see all the lords assembled in the courtyard?"

Robert nodded at him. "Aye, Manderlys, Cerwyns, Boltons, Flints and Karstarks, what of them?"

"I summoned them here. More will follow soon; I plan to call the banners."

"Call the banners?" Robert looked surprised. "For what damn purpose?"

"A former brother of the Night's Watch, Mace Rayder, had proclaimed himself King-beyond-the-wall and marches on the wall with a host of 100 000 men. Lord Commander Mormont cannot possibly hold the wall with the men he has so I'm coming to help him."

"A hundred thousand? The wildlings can't last two minutes without killing each other?"

"The Night's Watch reports are positive, and Lord Commander Mormont is far from a liar Robert, you know that."

Robert grimaced.

"Then what will you do, Ned?"

"I'll call the banners, bring Robb with me. It's about time he knows how to rule. I'll try and treat with Rayder, and if he doesn't submit, I'll give battle. Then I'll ride south and be your hand if you want me to."

Ooh the last part was risky, but he needed Robert to let him go.

"The North needs me one more time, Robert."

Robert nodded.

"Damn Ned, I understand, but who will rule for me? I'm definitely not going to give in to Cersei's wishes and have that fuckhead Tywin Lannister be my hand, I won't have that oaf Mace Tyrell do it either, and Dorne would piss on my guts, not like I'd want to give it to them in any case, and I won't chose Stannis either, too…one-sided. So, who can I give it to?"

"Randyll Tarly."

"Tarly? The man rose up in rebellion against me, Ned, you can't be serious!"

"I am serious. Tarly is loyal to you, he isn't an oathbreaker, he made an oath to the crown and he will uphold it. He doesn't maintain Tyrell in high regard so he won't be his dog, you can be sure of that. He's also a good man, very well versed in warfare, economics and politics. You know the goldcloaks are corrupt as shit Robert, give Tarly the means to root out corruption and he'll do it quickly and efficiently."

Robert nodded.

"Aye, it could work. Thank you for your advice, Ned."

"Plus, this is only temporary, give me a few months to sort out the ruckus North of the wall and I'll come to the capital."

"Whatever you need Ned."

"Ah about that, Robert."

Robert frowned.

"Go on."

"I'll need to treat with Rayder, make a deal with him. That deal might include wildlings passing south of the wall provided they swear fealty to you."

Robert growled. "Fine Ned. But I have one condition: no wildlings south of the Neck or I'll kill them myself."

"I didn't expect any less, and it won't be a worry, Moat Cailin is being rebuilt."

"Yes, a good thought, that and your raven to Tully. It's about time that wreck of Riverrun needed a second line of defense."

"So, you've seen it?"

"Yes, we'd been asked to make a detour for Edmure Tully's marriage to Roslyn Frey. Lovely girl for such a shitty family honestly. Edmure's making good progress, it will finally look like a proper castle now instead of a fort stuck in a river. All this your doing I expect?"

"Guilty as charged you g…Robert. Riverrun wasn't a proper castle so I wrote to Hoster and Edmure to reinforce the castle on the outside, you can't really rely on getting sieged, any decent person would just dry the canals leading to the castle. As for Edmure, I thought it was past time he was wed and carried the Tully line. I asked my wife to candidates she liked and I stumbled on Roslyn Frey. Family name isn't the most trusted but at least now old Walder will calm down with his marriage proposals everywhere."

Robert chuckled. "Aye. Speaking of marriage proposals, I wanted our families to be joined in blood. If your sister had lived, we would be blood brothers, but now…well I still intend to join our houses. What would you think of a match between my heir Joffrey and your Sansa?"

"You do me great honour Robert, but Sansa is already betrothed."

"She is? To whom? Can it be broken?"

Ah time to bluff now.

"To Willas Tyrell of Highgarden. Sansa always wanted to see the Reach so I asked around for suitors. Florent was a no-go, Oakheart would have been a bore, Hightower doesn't like me and Tarly is just no, leaving me with Tyrell. Truthfully, I didn't expect Mace to accept but, in the end, he did relent and accepted the match."

"I see. Well I can't really break a marriage of a lord paramount. And I've heard you betrothed Arya to Trystayne of Dorne? Why would you send her to the sand-eating fucks? They still call me "The Usurper" in their desert hell-hole."

"Solidifying your kingdom, Robert. A match between Dorne and the North will cool tensions with the Crown when I become hand."

Robert laughed "I didn't take you as the sort of person that would want to forge alliances like your father! Well I was wrong, but you may be right, Ned. You sending Jon with her?"

"Aye, he needs to see where he was born."

"Tell me Ned, as a friend, can you tell me who her mother was? I legitimized the boy; you owe me this much."

Ned inhaled. This wasn't part of the plan. Right, improvise, improvise, let's go.

"Ashara Dayne." Ned said coolly.

"Ha! I knew it! When?"

"Harrenhall."

Robert erputed in laughter. "Ha ha ha! I knew it! All those years I knew it was her!"

"Yes, well please don't tell Catelyn. She'll rip my head off if she learns of this."

"Of course, of course, I'll be silent as a tomb Ned." Robert said wiping the tears off of his eyes. "Right, back to the unity of our houses. How about Myrcella with Bran? Or Robb? Your heir might be a bit older, but when she comes of age…"

"Aye, that could be arranged. None of them have been betrothed yet, I'd hoped to marry them to Northern houses, but we can discuss this further over dinner."

"You know me too well, Ned."

The pair embraced as Robert then stood silent and began praying next to Lyanna's tomb. Right, all had gone to plan, now it was time for phase two. Time to bust out the twins.

**Robb II**

Robb woke up feeling great. Yesterday went without a hitch, Ned had managed to convince Robert to not name him hand and ravens had flown to Horn Hill that evening. Perfect, with a bit of luck Tarly would be able to deal with the issues plaguing the capital quite nicely, before it would all go to shit. Bael the Bard had also made an appearance, as he had arrested him himself, with Ned probably on the way to visit him in the room where he was confined right now. The feast went on without a hitch, although the king kept repeating on and on about how he'd killed Rhaegar half a dozen times, and had made…displaced remarks much to the displeasure of the Queen. Today the king and Ned would leave for a hunt in the Kingswood, the perfect moment to strike. As Robb put on his trousers, he nearly stepped on Grey Wind.

"Hey buddy, come on now, wakey wakey." Robb shook the direwolf as it groaned slightly before leaving the room. He and Jon didn't leave them in the kennels with the others but rather kept them in their rooms, much to the discomfort of Lady Catelyn. They admittedly took some space but they enjoyed the company nonetheless. As he stepped out into the courtyard, he saw Ned leave the room where Bael – or rather Mance – was detained.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Good, better than I expected. I need to send a raven to Castle Black before I embark on the king's hunt in a few minutes, everyone is getting ready. Are you?"

"Yeah just need to find Jory and Barristan and it'll be go-time. You taking Theon with you?"

"Yes, he wanted to see how a medieval hunt looks like, you have Jon as backup anyways."

"Speaking of me, are you?" a voice came from behind them.

"How did you sleep, your alter-ego still bothering you with sword fighting in your dreams?" Ned laughed.

"Hilarious, but I actually think I made decent progress…at holding the damn thing."

Robb chuckled but he too had gotten weird dreams. Mostly his conscience complaining about how he was handling things but he knew to shut him up when needed.

"Right Jon, you have first watch, I'll relay you in a few hours but I don't think it'll be necessary. Any news on Brandon?"

"Probably with Barristan" replied Jon. "Kid's obsessed with the knight."

"As long as he isn't scaling tower's I'm fine with it" Ned answered "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I have to go."

"Ned you better come this instant or you'll be eating the dust our horses leave behind us!" bellowed a voice behind him.

"You'd better go" Robb tapped him on the back. "We'll handle it from here."

Now it was only a matter of time. He, Jon and Theon had scouted the castle and found said tower that the twins were in. Jaime had done his scouting quite well. The staircase creaked and a direct approach wouldn't be possible. A second staircase was found, but it required going up the stairs of a secondary tower, through a gate, and down another stone tower. In other words, timing was everything. Jon spent a good two hours watching the tower's entry, thanks to Ghost. His friend had mastered warging quicker than Robb thought, as he himself only managed to warg in Greywind for an hour tops before letting go, nearly pissing himself the first time he did it. Not bad, but Jon could hold half a day and Ned over six hours, he would need practice and his Robb-conscience was not helping unlike the two others. Damn, waiting wasn't his thing, but he'd have to control himself, as he did laps around his room. Finally, after a good hour had passed, Jon finally came to Robb, barging through the door.

"It's go time." He said with a wide grin on his face.

Robb jumped out of his seat.

"Right, we need Barristan and Jory."

"Barristan is with Bran at the stables, Jory is in the courtyard."

"Right, you bring Barristan, I'll take Jory."

Jon nodded and rushed out, as Robb rushed down to the courtyard. He saw Jory and immediately hailed him down.

"Hey Jory!" he waved.

"Lord Stark, how may I help?"

"My brother has observed Ser Jaime doing some suspicious activity in the East Tower, his sister accompanying him. We don't know what they're doing and we'd like to form a party to investigate. Jon and Ser Barristan are waiting at the stables, I'd need you to come as well, just to be sure."

"Of course, at once."

Jory left the courtyard and sheathed his sword as he and Robb continued on to the stables where Barristan and Jon were waiting.

"Ser Barristan, sorry to interrupt you. Jon has given you word to what is going on?"

"He has, would you lead the way Lord Stark?"

Robb looked around, he didn't see Bran, but tired as he was, he probably went off to sleep or to Maester Luwin's lessons. He led the group around the towers and into what he named the "White Tower" for its white stones, marching up the stairs. Once up on the gateway and over the staircase leading down to the twin's room, he ushered his three followers to be silent. All three went down the stairs as carefully as possible, Robb having insisted they leave all armour behind to avoid and tingling. As he walked towards the wooden door, he tended an ear. Just like he thought, he heard muffled screams and moans coming from the room. Good, this was going perfectly. The door was solid though, and it would require breaking down. He turned back to Ser Barristan and whispered quietly

"The door is thick, and locked. We will need to force it open. You are the strongest here, could you break it down. Please do it hard, we need it to go down in one go."

Barristan nodded and went into position.

"On my signal." Robb said, as Jon and Jory looked at each other wearily, Jon looking especially concerned. Right, this was Robb's moment of glory, he needed a good catch-line, maybe "Haha I got you now!" or "Thought you were going to get away with it if it weren't for us meddling Starks?" or even a good old "Say hello to my little friend". So many decisions but Jon cut it short by whispering

"Robb get the fuck on with it."

Fine, "Leeroy Jenkins" would do. He signalled Ser Barristan who promptly barged down the door, but no words came out of Robb's mouth. Indeed both siblings were strip naked and stinking of the business they'd been doing, but Robb noticed a small form falling out the window while Robb stood baffled as Jaime finished his sentence before looking at the four with terrified eyes.

"…I do for love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right I planned to do this one on Wednesday but the first part with the Jon POV took me ages to write. Still not satisfied with it, but I kept it anyways to show that the "old" characters aren't really dead, but fused in the conscience of the SIs. The two others were an absolute blast to write though, and the three following are as well. We're sticking to canon right now but next chapter will see the canon script being thrown out of the proverbial window.


	6. Chapter V: The Stag's Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bib Bobby B isn't happy

**Chapter V: The Stag's Fury**

**Eddard IV**

_Ned breathed heavily as he woke up. The feast had gone on for most of the night, and he went to bed deadly tired. There were some sparse interruptions, notably the king telling how he won the Battle of the Trident for the 285th time, but also by some ruckus in the dining area as Robb had identified and seized the famous "Bael the Bard". Ned wanted to interrogate him right then and there, but the ale had already got to his head, and he decided to push it to this morning right before the king's hunt instead. He put on his clothes, and went first to Theon's room, knocking three times before entering, before immediately exiting the room once more._

_"Gods above, I didn't tell you to enter Lord Stark!"_

_"My apologies, I didn't expect you to be with company, please get dressed and decent, we have a job to do."_

_"Aye, leave me a moment."_

_It took a few minutes of standing awkwardly behind the door, but Theon finally exited with a smug smile on his face. Ned raised his brow before asking._

_"Taking on Theon's bad habits?"_

_"She's not a whore if that's what you are asking. She was drunk, I was drunk, I haven't slept with a woman in a year, do you blame me?"_

_Ned thought for a second._

_"No, not really, although Robb and Jon haven't slept with a woman in twenty fucking years and that's not a reason for them to take advantage of the first girl that comes across."_

_"Oh well, they can stay like that for all I care, once you get a taste of it, you want more. And it wasn't a random girl as you say, she's one of Lady Mormont's daughters."_

_Ned nearly choked on his own spit._

_"You did what?"_

_"Oh, come on, Ned, I'm not going to father any bastards or going to go tell anyone about this. Looking at the Mormont's reputation, I do intend to live a few more years, thank you very much."_

_"You do realize that if this spreads between my vassals I won't be able to do much for you right?"_

_"Don't worry, it won't, and besides, we have bigger fish to fry right now."_

_"We do, but this conversation isn't over Theon."_

_"As long as you don't talk about it in front of the king later…"_

_The duo presented themselves in front of a door guarded by two Stark guards. Ned nodded and both let them in, one handing a plate with wine, bread and salt to Theon. Ned closed the door behind him as Theon set the plate on the small table in front of the man eyeing both of them wearily. Ned rose to spoke but the man was quicker at the draw._

_"Why am I being detained here? This is an outrage, I am only a wandering bard, I have done nothing wrong!"_

_Ned smiled before taking a seat, Theon by his side._

_"Now, now, Mance, no need for such talk, we are on the same side, please sit down"_

_The man looked at Ned with a shocked expression on his face._

_"H…How did you?"_

_"Well I know how to recognize old faces, Mance, or don't you remember when you went down to Winterfell with my younger brother all those years ago? I certainly haven't and I always remember a face. Now once again, Mance. Please sit down, have some bread and salt, and some wine. It isn't ale from north of the wall, I'm afraid. Only a small dornish red." Ned said as he poured three glasses._

_Mance Rayder eyed the glasses wearily before looking Ned in the eye once more. Ned rolled his eyes._

_"Out of all the ways I have to kill you, believe me poison would be the last." He said with a smile._

_Mance chuckled and brought the wine to his lips._

_"Too sweet, you southrons do need to learn how to make a proper drink."_

_"Tell that to the Dornish. Well anyways I haven't brought you here to discuss food and drink with you."_

_"Aye and what are you here for, and why is he here?" Mance turned to Theon._

_"Ah, Theon is here to remind me of certain things should I need to. I'm afraid I'm getting old already and I'm starting to lose some memories. Anyhow. I know what is driving you south."_

_Mance looked perplexed._

_"You do?"_

_"Aye, the Others are coming. They bring death, destruction and the long night with them. Which is why I'm willing to cut a deal with you Rayder."_

_"What sort of deal?"_

_"I'll be willing to bring you south of the wall. All of you. Men, women, children, giants, mammoths, Thenns even, anyone. I'll allow you to resettle the Gift and the New Gift, those are Crown territories and the Wall is in need of food and men. Any of the free folk wanting to settle on Karstark, Manderly or Moat lands we have available can do so but they'll have to swear fealty to me and the crown."_

_"I imagine you aren't doing things out of goodness of heart, what do you wish, Lord Stark?"_

_"Well, every free folk I can get is one the Night King doesn't so that's a plus. But in any case, I'll ask any able-bodied man to fight for us, I'm going to man every castle on that wall, refortify Bear Island, Last Hearth and even Winterfell and the Moat. I need your host to bolster these numbers. I will also require you to turn over half your gold, we will need to feed you and winter is coming, food isn't cheap. I will also request each clan turn over one son as a hostage to a northern house in order to stop any funny stuff from happening. If you decide to reave and pillage, said son will lose his head. You will abide by the laws of the North while you are south of the wall, and you will swear either a vow to the Night's Watch or to me, whichever you prefer, I do suggest the latter, Night's Watch vows are for life and I doubt you'd be welcomed there. Once we defeat the Others, you'll be allowed to stay south of the wall or go back North, whichever you prefer."_

_"That seems very one-sided Lord Stark, I don't see where we win, you ask to much of us."_

_Ned sighed._

_"You get to live?"_

_"And we concede half our treasures, we kneel to southerners and we give away our sons! No Lord Stark, those terms are unacceptable. If you do not give us better terms, I can still blow down the wall with the Horn of Joramun."_

_Ned turned to Theon, who spoke up after a long pause._

_"Yes, that's very nice, but we both know your horn is fake, you got it from a giant's grave and you tell everyone it's the horn of winter just because it's big."_

_Mance twitched._

_"How…" but was interrupted by Theon_

_"As for the rest. The gold will be used to sway the northern lords whose lands border the wall to be more lenient, as repayment if you will, as well as to buy food for your army. The hostages are to ensure no clansmen get ideas, as for the last bit, we are not asking you to kneel Rayder, just asking for an oath of fealty for the time that you spend south of the wall, that you follow southern laws and such."_

_Mance swallowed. Ned could see that his arguments were turning to dust very quickly._

_"And if we don't agree? I have 100 000 men ready to march on the wall."_

_Ned rose._

_"Then I call my banners. My men are experienced, they've seen battle against the Dragons and the Greyjoys, even at 1 against 10 we will crush you, and you will become part of the army of the dead. And I do not want that, you don't want that either, so leave your pride aside for a moment, swear fealty to me, and save your people."_

_Mance sighed._

_"It's not that simple, Lord Stark. I spent five years of my life uniting the tribes, they call me a leader, they put their faith in me to lead them. The moment I swear fealty to you, that is all gone, I'll be a leader no more."_

_Ned sat down again_

_"Let me tell you a story, do you know of Torrhen Stark, the last king of winter?"_

_Mance nodded._

_"The king who knelt."_

_"Depends on who you are asking. If you ask us, Torrhen did the only thing he could. If he gave battle to Aegon, he would have lost, it would have been another Field of Fire, his family could have been wiped out, and the North burnt to a crisp. Instead, he shoved away his pride, and decided to kneel to Aegon. For his people. He saved the Stark line, he saved the North from unnecessary grief, from thousands of deaths. Of course, his personal legacy to the southrons and to some northerners will be as the king who knelt. But to us? He's the king who saved his people, the one who threw away his pride and who did what was right. And did any declare him unfit and continued to fight? Aye, a few did, and they went to Essos and founded the Company of the Rose. But the rest stayed, because they respected Torrhen, they knew he was a good king and he did indeed do what he swore when he took the winter crown: he protected his people. You can do the same Mance, of course some will jeer and mock you. But you brought them this far, if this is the price to pay for their safety, I bet many will follow you thanks to the respect you command."_

_Mance listened carefully during Ned's speech. He looked at his glass, downed the last of his wine, before finally answering._

_"Fine. I'll swear your fealty, but you better honour your word, Lord Stark."_

_"Yes, about that, I have one more condition. Well it's not really a condition but rather a demand."_

_"What is it?" Mance frowned._

_"I know the Others are coming, so do you and so does Greyjoy here. But many of the lords I convened here will not believe us. The southerners will not believe us. We need some of them alive?"_

_Mance's eyes went wide._

_"You want us to capture an Other?"_

_"No, not necessarily. But a few wights would be nice. To prove to the northern lords that they exist. Lords Karstark and Umber and Lady Dustin will especially be in need of convincing. For that I intend to go beyond the wall with a part of the army, show them what we are facing, capture four or five wights and bring them to the south and convince the southern lords to help. And for that I need you, not to capture them, but to work with the Night's Watch as reconnaissance to spot and find an isolated group."_

_"You want us to work with the crows as scouts?"_

_"Not a lot of the free folk, a few groups should do. I'll send a raven to Lord Commander Mormont. He's a good man, fought on the Trident with me, and I trust him. He'll send scouts with First Ranger Benjen Stark and by the time we regroup at Castle Black with the Northern Armies, I'll want to engage the wights as soon as possible. This way the free folk will be able to pass south with no harm done. I'll also allow two thousand of your people to pass south immediately as a gesture of goodwill. For the others I need the northern lords' approval and well…you know what I need for that."_

_Mance winced._

_"Fine, I'll ask for a few of my people to work with yours. But I'll only work with Lord Mormont or Ranger Stark. Not any others."_

_Ned nodded._

_"Send your instructions by raven to Maester Aemon at Castle Black by raven, the king should leave in two days for King's Landing and I'll have the banners officially called. I'll present you to the Northern lords and we'll make our case. In the meantime, you are our guest here."_

_"Your prisoner you mean?"_

_"No, you may walk around the castle freely, just don't announce your true identity to anyone, don't leave the castle, and don't walk out of your room without escort, so I'd just say, guest under surveillance."_

_With that, Ned and Theon left the room, leaving Mance to ponder his choices and the war to come. In the meantime he needed to write to Castle Black as soon as possible. Maybe move the banners to Last Hearth as soon as possible as well, send the army to Castle Black, keep the northern lords here while they move? Ned had a lot of options to consider, but none stood out yet. Well, whatever. First send the ravens, wait for an answer, then improvise. Besides, there's that other matter to attend to, speaking of which, there was Robb. Ned turned to Theon._

_"Right, get ready for the hunt, I'll write to Castle Black and catch you at the stables."_

_Theon nodded and left, as Ned was left to ponder what to do next._

**Robb III**

Robb stood behind the door, his mouth agape as for once, he was at a loss of words. Everything had gone so well, and right then and there, everything had gone to shit. Jaime lunged for his sword, but Barristan was faster, locking swords with each other in a thunderous clang as the Lannister knight tried to go for Robb. Robb hadn't anything on his mind other than rushing to the window, ignoring Jon and Jory unsheathing their swords while Jon sent the two guards that came with them to send a few reinforcements and to get to the bottom of the tower as fast as possible. Robb peeked down the window, ignoring the screech of steel, and that's where he saw the body of Bran Stark. Oh no, no, no, no, no. How? It had all gone so well. Bran was distracted, had given up on scaling towers for a while, what had compelled him to do it again? Robb immediately turned to the fighters. Jon had restrained Cersei with ease, although the bitch was still screeching, shouting to god knows who that she was the queen, as if that mattered right now. He fixed Jon in the eyes, before finally letting out.

"It…It's Bran, he got pushed…"

Jon's face suddenly sank, and Robb's attention suddenly shifted as he heard a blood-curdling scream coming from none other than Jaime Lannister. Jory ha moved in to restrain him, but Jaime had made a move for his dagger. Sensing an opportunity to knock the knight out cold, Barristan moved to hit Jaime on the head with the side of his pommel. Instead Jaime focused once more on Barristan, a crucial mistake as the sword instead gashed his right eye right open. The knight fell to his knees screaming as Cersei suddenly dropped to her knees screaming "Traitors! I'll have all your heads for this!"

Jon instead calmly answered "Or maybe we'll have yours", slowly pushing the disgraced queen down the stairway. Meanwhile Barristan had finished duelling the Lannister knight, not like it was close anyways, the old knight had completely outmanoeuvred Jaime, and now with one of his eyes gone, the Lannister was easily pushed to the ground.

"You, you" Barristan reeked of rage "You are no knight! You are a disgrace! You forsook every vow you ever took! By all the gods I hope the king lets me take off your head!"

Robb turned to Jory. "Jory, Jaime pushed Bran out of the tower, I don't know of his condition but we need to help him fast, and this one as well, I don't intend for him to die of blood loss. Get two maesters, milk of the poppy, anything to help, and be quick about it, I'll help Barristan with that bastard."

Jory nodded and rushed down the stairs. Robb helped Jaime up, not like Barristan needed any help, and lied him down on the bed.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan. You probably saved my life, I'm sorry, my mind froze for a second, so many things happening at once."

"Do not thank me, I did my duty, that's all. Go to your brother's aid, I'll keep this one well-guarded, believe me."

Robb nodded. "I'll catch a maester and send him here as fast as possible. If there is anything you need, call for me, I'll get a few extra guards to be safe."

Robb rushed down the stairs, pushing through the guards that were coming up with the maester. That didn't matter to him, Jaime could die for all he cared, all he needed was to know that Bran was alive. He pushed through the crowd gathered in the courtyard and straight to Bran's room where Lady Catelyn, Maester Luwin, Jon, Sansa and Arya were already gathered but he also noticed the presence of Myrcella next to Sansa. Surprisingly, Catelyn said nothing as to Jon's presence in the room as her face was concentrated on Maester Luwin administering what he thought was first aid. She turned her head and saw him, and immediately threw herself into his arms.

"Oh Robb, thank the gods you are here!" Catelyn said, tears rolling out of her eyes.

Robb pitied the woman. Her son had fallen out of a window after all, he could only imagine the pain it would bring her. "Mother, how is he?"

Catelyn stopped crying for a second, but Robb knew she was fighting to hold back tears.

"Oh Robb, he's alive, his heart is beating, thank the gods. He's still asleep, but Maester Luwin told me if you came to him a few minutes later, he would have…" then Catelyn erupted into tears once more.

"Don't worry mother, he's alive, it's all that matters." Robb felt a huge wave of relief hit him. Bran was alive, good, that was salvageable.

"But he'll never walk again, Robb. I'm sorry." Catelyn continued, weeping. "The fall broke his spine."

Shit. All that planning, for nothing. Bran had still fallen out of the tower and was still paralyzed. God fucking dammit. Robb wanted to scream. It had all gone so well, and in an instant, everything had gone to shit again. Her mother's voice stopped him from punching the wall as the turned to him again.

"Is it true? Did the kingslayer push him out of that window?"

Robb nodded grimly.

"But why Robb? Why did he do this to an innocent child? To my baby, to your brother?"

Robb drew in a deep breath, Jon likely had avoided Catelyn and not told her about the situation.

"We caught Ser Jaime fornicating with the Queen, mother. They were both naked and rutting like animals when Ser Barristan, Jory, Jon, Cregan, Rickard and I found them."

A small voice erupted from behind them.

"What?"

Robb turned as he saw Myrcella with tears in her eyes.

"M..Mother, with Uncle Jaime? She would never…"

Robb suddenly felt sorry for the girl, while Catelyn's tears of sorrow suddenly turned to ones of rage.

"The kingslayer. I'll strangle him myself for what he did to Bran. He will see the wrath of a mother…"

"I'm afraid Ser Jaime won't be seeing much more of anything." Robb replied. "When we found them in that…compromising position, he attacked me. I was too concerned with Bran that I didn't see him and Ser Barristan drew his sword to stop him from harming me. Ser Jaime lost his right eye, and I don't know if he'll live."

Catelyn looked at him with wide eyes, but Robb's eyes darted to Myrcella who slumped on a chair and started weeping. Catelyn suddenly stopped hugging Robb and instead went over to Myrcella, sitting next to her, pulling the young girl's head to her own chest and started to comfort her, to Robb's surprise. She was soon joined by Sansa, as he heard a horn sound in the distance. The king has returned.

"Mother, the King and father are back, I have to go."

Catelyn nodded, as Robb exited through the doors, Jon trailing behind him.

"Well this is bad." Jon finally spoke as the pair of them descended to the courtyard.

"This is fucking awful. We busted the twins alright, but Bran's still crippled, Jaime's missing an eye and maybe won't live, and that bitch just won't shut up already!" Robb cried out loud as Cersei was still kicking and screaming despite her being restrained by two kingsguard.

"Yeah well at least it can't get any worse." Jon replied.

"Please don't jinx it." Robb answered as King Robert entered the courtyard, soon followed by Ned, Theon and their retinue and what he saw was a bountiful hunt indeed.

Ned's visage suddenly turned bleak and he watched Jon and Robb, both with stern looks on their faces. The king's usual jovial looks suddenly died down as he stepped forward with Ned. Ned stopped short of Robb, spared at look at Cersei, before finally asking:

"What happened?"

"And why is my wife being restrained by two kingsguard?" the king boomed. "Ser Barristan, Robb Stark, what is the meaning of this?"

"I can explain, your grace." Robb started. "We observed Ser Jaime making weird backs and forths to the Grey Tower, changing bedsheets and such, we also obser…"

"The short version, Robb!" Ned let out.

"Right." Robb continued. "Long story short me, Ser Barristan, Jon, Jory and two guards checked on the tower Ser Jaime and her sister were in and we found them having sexual relations with each other. My little brother Bran escaladed the tower and came before us, and Ser Jaime threw him out the window."

Ned gasped; Robert seemed to be seething with rage.

"He's alive, although in a come and won't ever walk again. Sorry father." Robb paused. "Ser Jaime attacked me but Ser Barristan got hold of him first, Ser Jaime defended himself but Ser Barristan was better and Ser Jaime lost his right eye. He's being attended to by a maester and I don't know whether or not he'll live. The Queen was seized and brought to a cell before we brought her here."

Ned looked horrified, while Robert was barely containing his anger, and his faced turned bright red before he finally exploded.

"You BITCH! YOU LYING SLUT! YOU WERE FUCKING THE KIGNSLAYER?" Robb boomed at her wife.

"Aye, I was fucking him. He does it better than you ever did, you fat hump of flesh! I am the Queen and you are not worthy of me, only Jaime is! You are a pig, a whoremonger and a drunkard!" shouted Cersei, still in half of the tone Robert, grinning while she spoke directly at him.

"You are a Queen no more. The Seven Kingdoms will know what happened here soon enough, and believe me that the fucking Lannisters will see my fury be unleashed upon them. For you, I won't send you to the silent sisters, I'd be insulting the faith, no. I think spending the rest of your life on Ghaston Grey would be appropriate."

Cersei growled.

"My father will not stand for this. He'll come north and burn everything of your snow-filled shithole" she said eyeing directly at Ned. "And I'll have my revenge for all the times you" she said staring back at Robert "howled that northern bitch's name."

"ENOUGH!" roared Robert, preparing to strike her, earning a grin on Cersei's face, but to Robb's surprise, Ned caught Robert's hand.

"No Robert, don't! She's still the mother of your children."

"Hah!" Cersei laughed. "You are as stupid as him then! One proper look at your children and you'd have known they aren't yours, Robert." Cersei hissed. "They have all Lannister looks, Lannister eyes, Lannister hair. The legacy of your dynasty is as much stag as it is insect!" Cersei laughed.

Robert was in complete fury, but with a lot of self-control, as Ned still held his fist down to stop him from doing anything stupid.

"Oh yes you did try to make some heirs, I had some miscarriages remember?" Cersei looked Robert in the eye. "I strangled every single brown- or dark-haired abomination that came out of my womb. And as I did so I thought of you, of how I'd kill you slowly when the time came, and I enjoyed every bit of it."

"RAAAAH!" A huge sound came out of Robert's mouth as he shoved Ned aside. But he didn't hit the Queen. Instead he watched in horror as the king pulled out his sword and shoved it into Cersei's heart.

The courtyard went silent. Robb couldn't believe his eyes, and quickly excused himself to go throw up in a stack of hay nearby. Jon stood still with Ned, both baffled at what had just happened, while Robert finally sheathed his sword back into his scabbard, and tears began forming in his eyes. Finally, words escaped his mouth.

"Shit, Ned, what have I done?"

**Theon II**

To say everyone was in shock was an understatement. Theon had come back from the hunt expecting both twins to be locked in cells and rotting away while both Ned and Robert would be figuring out ways of proving his progeny were Jaime's. Instead, Bran was back to square one, well, canon square one. Cersei was dead, killed out of spite by the king, while Jaime Lannister had lost the usage of his right eye. The "Reserve Maester" whom he'd forgotten the name, had done a good job, saving Jaime's life, only at the cost of his eye and a lifelong trauma. Thankfully, Robert didn't want any more bloodshed and did not "open his chest with a Warhammer like I did with that fucking dragon" like he claimed, and instead of executing the man, he had let him join the Watch. Cersei in all her stupid glory in trying to make Robert hit her, had not only killed herself, but also made all her children bastards by her own admission. Her killing had nearly started a small civil war within the Lannister camp, but cooler heads prevailed, and instead the Lannisters just packed and immediately returned to the Westerlands, leaving Robert and his retinue in Winterfell for another day. And now here they were, all in Ned's solar. The king, Ned, Robb, Jon, the imp Tyrion Lannister, now solidly Tywin's only heir, who still had a few Lannister guards with him, a few lords, likely stormlanders or crownlanders he didn't recognize and himself. Theon knew this was a crisis meeting, and he wouldn't like what came next. Finally, Ned was the first to break the silence.

"Gods, Robert, what were you thinking?"

"I don't know, I acted rashly, as I always do."

The imp spoke up first "You do realize my father will not stand for this? He will call his banners and march on the capital and the north."

"Hah!" the king spoke "Let him do so, he is alone against seven kingdoms, there is nothing he can do now."

"You killed a Queen." The imp continued. "Don't judge me, I wasn't fond of her, my father either, but it is still an insult against his house and he will not let it go unpunished. Plus, seven kingdoms? Dorne certainly won't help you, the Vale doesn't look like it will either, and the Greyjoys don't really care either. That doesn't leave a lot of space and…"

"And without them Tywin is still outnumbered two to one at the very least." Robert said. "There is nothing he can do."

"Stop this!" Ned's voice boomed through the hall. "You are right Lord Lannister; your father will not stand for this. But you are also right, your grace, we outnumber him. Tywin is intelligent, he will never try to fight us up front unless he knows he has the upper hand, which he doesn't. He certainly won't attack right away but he won't let us gather our forces long enough either, I'd say give him four to six months to call his banners. Expect a large increase in banditry in the Riverlands and possibly the Reach during this time."

Several heads nodded around the room.

"I'll send a raven to Brynden, Hoster and Edmure Tully in Riverrun with further instructions, not to spread out their forces too much either for when the time Tywin strikes. This also changes plans for the situation here. Robb?"

"Yes father?", the young lord answered.

"You will still come with me to Castle Black as I have a mission for you but you will come back as soon as possible to Winterfell with the Northern Cavalry and a few thousand soldiers. Lords Karstark, Umber and Hornwood will accompany you, I want you to be ready to help the Tullys in case anything happens."

Robb gulped but nodded.

"Theon, you will ride to Moat Cailin with the king tomorrow. Continue overseeing the construction of the place. I want it impregnable."

Theon smiled inside. He had a lot of plans for the place and couldn't wait to stop freezing his balls off here.

"I will." He answered in turn.

"In the meantime, your grace, you and your lords should head back south as soon as possible. Prepare the defences of King's Landing, strike a deal with the Reach, and I remind you that you do need an heir." Robert nodded at that and Ned continued. "Have Tarly root our corruption from the Goldcloaks, most of them were probably deep in Lannister pockets, and then give the man command of your forces. He's a capable commander, and loyal."

Robert nodded again.

"Thank you for your advice, anything else Ned?"

"Not that I can think of, but Jon will also accompany you to the Moat with Arya on their way to White Harbour. He will have other suggestions but that still need confirming."

Robert nodded for the third time. However, before he could answer, the imp spoke.

"Speaking of not repeating, your grace, why am I here? I'm a Lannister and I won't hide anything to my father" asked the imp, intrigued.

"Because you'll stay north as a hostage." The king answered bluntly. "You are the heir to Casterly Rock, and Tywin won't move against the North if we hold both his sons."

"You overestimate how much my father cares for me."

"Bah, you're a Lannister, it's all that matters to him. You can keep personal guards of course, but they'll have to be Starks, not Lannister men, Ned will provide you with them. I will allow you to keep the dog though, he wants nothing to do with the ex-prince now and I doubt he wants to return to your father. You are free to go visit the Wall, but you will go with Lord Stark and return with young Robb and stay at Winterfell until I say you can come out."

The imp nodded.

"I see, your grace."

"One more thing before this meeting is adjourned." The king added "My children are now bastards; I've told them and they're now confined to their rooms. Especially Joffrey, the idiot tried to break out of his room with his sword and was bent on killing all the Starks, until the Hound stopped him. I've made the decree and the Seven Kingdoms will soon know. Anyways I find it unwise to keep them all with me. Joffrey and Tommen will come with me to the capital before being sent to Storm's End and Riverrun for fostering or as hostages. Myrcella will stay north with you Ned, she has taken care of your boy Bran, and wants to stay with him. I can't really refuse her after what I did to her mother." Robert sighed. "Very well, this meeting is over, I'll see you lords tomorrow for the ride south, now if you'll excuse me, I have several letters to write."

Theon exited the room without a word. Before he could return to his room and ponder what to do next, the imp caught up to him.

"Ah Lord Tyrion, so? Still excited to see the Wall."

Tyrion winced slightly.

"Yes, although I expected it to be in different circumstances." He sighed. "Although I always wanted to see a battle, I guess the northern host against the wildlings will be quite the spectacle."

"You might find it disappointing." Theon answered.

"Bah, won't be the first time. I did expect this trip to have several twists but my sister dying and my brother being sent to the watch weren't quite what I was expecting."

Theon nodded. "What will you do now?"

"Well I guess visiting my brother in the cells will be a good start, then I guess I'll be on my way to drown my sorrows in a brothel, care to join me?"

Theon shook his head.

"I'm afraid brothels aren't my thing anymore."

"Ah." Tyrion smiled "You've changed, Greyjoy. And I thought you were a famous whoremonger, biggest in the north."

"We all change, Lord Tyrion." Theon answered.

The Lannister imp nodded, before bowing slightly and headed towards the cells. Theon on the other hand trotted up the stairs to his room, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Yo, Theon, I need you at my solar now."

Theon turned around and saw Ned staring at him.

"Another sigil you don't recognize?"

"No, idiot, I need you to help me with the Sansa-Catelyn conversation."

"I think you'll do good enough without me."

"Come on, man, don't leave me alone, be there for moral support."

"Fine, fine, I'll come, but don't expect me to cover your back if it gets bad."

"Thanks, my dude."

Theon followed Ned to his solar once again, where Catelyn was waiting alone. The moment he came through the door, Catelyn raised an eyebrow before asking.

"Ned, why is he here?"

"Theon…helps me remember things I forget. I trust him like he was family, Cat." Ned answered.

Catelyn raised a brow and looked at him wearily. Theon immediately spoke.

"Don't worry my Lady, I won't say a word unless called upon, act like I'm not here."

Catelyn still looked at him for a few seconds before turning her attention back to Ned.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Sansa and her future. Robert proposed to marry her to Joffre, but that is off the table now."

Catelyn nodded. "A shame, Queen Sansa would have been fitting, and I'm sure she could have calmed the boy down."

Theon repressed a laugh, while Ned tried to stay serious.

"Uh, yes, well. Anyways I hadn't planned on accepting for I accepted another offer. Mace Tyrell has accepted the match between his heir Willas and Sansa."

Catelyn stayed silent for a moment, before recollecting herself.

"Willas Tyrell…" she spoke "A good choice, he seems like a fine lad, kind and gentle. Heir to Higharden, future Lord of the Reach…" Catelyn seemed troubled though "But he's mostly crippled and nearly twice Sansa's age…"

"Which is why I asked Sansa first." Catelyn immediately frowned.

"You asked her before going to me?"

"This decision concerns her most of all. I wanted to see if she would consent to such a match before asking you. She has."

Theon chuckled internally. Or rather you are putting pressure on her by saying Sansa has agreed, and since Sansa is Catelyn's favourite child well now Catelyn is stuck. Well played.

"But there's a condition to this." Ned spoke again. "Mace is concerned that Willas won't be able to see his bride and asks for Sansa to come to Highgarden as soon as possible and stay there for a time so the two might get to know one another. Again, Sansa told me she had no problem with it."

Catelyn gulped. She was nervous, Theon could see it.

"First Arya, then Sansa, sent to Sunspear and Highgarden. Ned…I understand wanting to make alliances, especially during these times, but you want to send my daughters away, both of them, I…"

"Which is why." Ned interrupted "I don't want her to go alone. I'll send her friends including that Lady Jeyne with her. I'll also send her septa, and if you'd like, I'll send you as well."

Catelyn's expression went from sadness to shock in an instant.

"You want to send me to Highgarden? Ned you can't be serious."

"I'm not forcing you, Cat. I know you'll want to stay with Bran while he's still in his sleep, and take care of Rickon. But Robb is a man grown, he can handle himself, Maester Luwin will handle Bran and Rickon will be well looked upon. Cat, I know you love Sansa, and I want her to go with her to protect her, you are what Jon is to Arya, a comforting presence, a protector. I won't force you, you can stay here in Winterfell, it is your home, but with what is coming, the castle will be a war camp soon enough, and you'll be safer in Highgarden."

Theon saw a few tears running down Catelyn's cheeks, before Ned started again.

"Listen, Cat. If you don't accept the match, I'll accept it. If you don't want to go to Highgarden, I'll accept it. Nothing you can say here will make me angry or sad, I want you to know that."

Catelyn nodded.

"I'll…I'll go with her." Theon nearly fell out of his chair in shock. "You're right. Sansa deserves a seat like Highgarden, it's all she ever dreamed of. And I always wanted to see the Reach, and see my little lady grow into a woman. I'll go there and protect her, but you have to promise me something Ned."

"Anything, Cat."

"If anything happens while we are there, I want you to do everything under the sun to keep our daughter safe, to keep our daughters safe."

"Oh Cat" Ned hugged her. "Of course, I promise you that. I'll do anything for our daughter's safety, even throw away my honour for them, you know that."

"When are you planning on sending her?"

"Not before Bran has awoken." Ned answered "Mace is sending a ship to White Harbour as we speak, under the leadership of a Hightower, what's his name Theon?"

"Baelor. Baelor Brightsmile." He answered.

"Thank you, that's the one." Ned replied "He will send a raven when he reaches Gulltown, you'll travel to White Harbour from there, and then to Oldtown and Highgarden. The trip should take two moons to complete, but again Cat."

Ned looked at her in the eyes.

"If you don't want to go, if you don't want Sansa to go. Everything is off the table."

"No." Catelyn remarked. "I want our daughter to be happy, she will be happy, I promise. You'll come to the wedding?"

"Of course, I will."

Catelyn hugged him even tighter, and Theon felt like it was the right time to leave. He tiptoed his way out of the solar and into the courtyard where he drew a large breath. Damn, his friend was good. Emotionally manipulating both Sansa and Catelyn, he'd killed two birds with one stone. No more Catelyn sticking to him like the plague s that would be a relief, and Sansa was safe, well as safe as could be for now, and would be married to someone who would likely care about her. Theon gathered his thoughts, and when looking for a familiar face, he noticed Tyrion walking hurriedly across the courtyard. Theon intercepted him and told him to have a nice time at the establishments. Instead Tyrion looked him in the eyes before sighing.

"I don't think I'll go tonight."

"What's that? The Lannister imp refusing to go to a brothel one night? What has gotten hold of you?"

"Other things on my mind."

"Like what?"

"Ways of how I'm going to kill my father." Tyrion glared at him with an ice-cold stare before leaving to god knows where. Theon stood there, baffled. Well this was an interesting day to be sure.


	7. Chapter VI: Parting Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Theon leave Winterfell, Ned and Robb prepare to head north.

**Chapter VI: Parting Ways**

**Jon IV**

I looked back at the kingsroad, the walls of Winterfell and Cerwyn now long gone behind us, as the sun continued to disappear behind the horizon. The goodbyes had been said, and although I didn't show it, I still felt extreme sadness at the departure from the place that I'd called home for a little more than a month. Leaving Ned and Robb was also quite painful, and the thought of leaving Ned, who still had trouble with the book canon, to his own devices left me quite worried, although Robb did say that he'd keep an eye on him. I smiled slightly, I mean Ned had managed to get rid of Sansa and Catelyn at the same time, freeing him from both of his tormentors in one go. I respect that, and it proved Ned could work alone quite well. Nevertheless, doubt still inhabited my mind. Would they ever need me? What would happen if I found myself in the same situation as Jon at the Wall, confronted with an impossible choice between his duty to the Watch and his family? How would I choose between Arya and the North? Fuck that, it wasn't time to be a pessimist, but the events didn't help either.

I wished I could be an optimist like Theon. He'd been overjoyed at the thought of finally leaving Winterfell and its cold climate had him on the edge of his seat during the whole preparations to leave. Of course, he was sad to leave his friends behind, but if that meant he'd be less cold at Moat Cailin, so be it. And Robb had promised to visit to check on how the rebuilding progressed soon after he'd come back to Winterfell. Theon had also taken with him a good number of books, too much of the royal guard's astonishment, as well as the king himself. Seeing a Greyjoy delving into books had seemed like a fantasy for the king, and yet Theon devoured a good fifty pages every night, while Robert continued recounting his exploits during the rebellion. Robert had even tried recounting his "exploits" with women, in hopes to get Theon's attention, to no avail. He'd then tried to spite him by recollecting the events of the Greyjoy Rebellion, and he'd been happy to peak at Theon's attention, but his friend didn't flinch at the stories. Instead he asked many questions to Robert, about the siege engines used, the size of the fleets, the logistics and equipment of the royal forces and much more. Robert had smiled at that, at least he was getting some attention, and was only too happy to remind himself of the events of the Greyjoy rebellion. I took in a deep breath, looking once more at the sun dwindling in the horizon, before going back to my tent.

The dusk finally set in, and the bustling activity of what was once the royal convoy finally died down. I looked back at the large number of tents present on the field outside of Geneva. Yes, Geneva, because Ned and Robb had insisted of naming every single town and borough in the North, and what was a small town between Cerwyn and Moat Cailin was now called Geneva. Ned had called dibs. In addition to the royal escort moving back south to King's Landing, the Northern Corps of Engineers would also be accompanying Theon to Moat Cailin. That had been my idea, based on the Royal Engineers and the Seabees, the formation of an army corps dedicated to building siege equipment, surveying territory, rebuilding roads, building pontoons, bridges and other equipment if needed. The idea had been validated by Ned, and soon enough, a thousand masons, builders, men-at-arms and a whole lot of other professions had been conscripted, or had volunteered, into the newly formed corps. The corps was sent with Theon to Moat Cailin in order to train around the fortress, with an additional thousand recruits supposed to arrive within the month. They were also joined by a couple peasants making their way to the new rice fields around the Moat and in the borders of the Neck.

I had also kept a few northern engineers, 50, to keep with the "Desert Guard" that would accompany Arya and I to Dorne. Said Desert Guard consisted of 200 Stark soldiers led by Wendel Manderly, who would be accompanying us to Sunspear and would be in charge of our protection. Not that I think they'd be useful, but Ned chose not to take any risks, partly because of Catelyn's demands of an escort, and partly in case things turned south quickly, which god forbid won't happen. Anyways these soldiers added to the numbers already on the way south, and to the long royal procession, which didn't fit in the town at this point.

The king's advisors had asked him to stay at a local inn, but the King had refused, instead wanting to camp in the wild like "the good old days" and the royal camp had moved to the outskirts of the city, while the storm lords had mostly chosen to stay inside the city. As such, the king did request that Arya, Theon and I stay with him, which we did gladly accept, although Arya did sleep in a separate smaller tent, connected to ours by a small passage. The king hadn't been the same since they'd left Winterfell, and looked a lot more serious. Good, this is my last night with the convoy, as the Desert Guard, Arya and myself would be leaving the Kingsroad to march to White Harbour tomorrow, and there were still a couple issues to discuss with the king. I breathed in.

"Theon you ready?"

He looked at me surprised, as he lifted his head out of the book he'd been devouring.

"Huh?"

I sighed.

"I said are you ready? It's my last night here and we still need to inform the king of certain developments." I pointed at the stack of papers in my tent, and a few ravens that had come in that morning

"Of course, of course." he replied as he stood up.

A screech came in behind him.

"Oh, shut up will you, stupid bird." Theon let out, as he took a few papers with him.

"He's got a name you know." I replied as Theon groaned.

"Yeah I know, he's named Curtiss, stupid name for a bird." He let out grumbling.

"Hey at least I don't name mind Hedwige." I let out. "Literally no one will get that reference."

"Yeah but it doesn't screech any time I make a damn movement in my bed."

The hawk screeched again, much to Theon's dismay. They'd been goodbye presents from Ned. Since we were both going to far-away places, well me immediately at least, Theon later. He'd gotten us hawks to transport messages to Winterfell or to Robb faster than a raven could. They'd have to be used for emergencies only though, as he only had two trained ones. He gifted them with two falconers from House Royce to help with the beasts, although they'd been fine with their training for the moment.

We made our way to the royal camp, where Robert had already set up his table and was laughing and trading jokes with some of his bannermen.

"Ah, the northerners are here!" the king let out.

Theon and I bowed slightly.

"So, what stories would you like me to tell this time, Greyjoy?" Robert continued.

Theon flinched but then responded. "Actually, I'd hoped Jon and I could have a word in private with you, your grace."

"Of course, of course, let us go to my tent, we'll be better there. Ser Barristan?" The knight turned to Robert. "Please stand guard for me."

Ser Barristan nodded and escorted us to the large royal tent, the greatest of the gathering, complete with yellow and black banners of the crowned stag. Robert poured himself a glass of wine, offering some to both of us, before sitting down on his chair and gesturing us to do the same.

"So, what did you two lads want to talk to me about?"

"About this." Theon said as he put the pile of papers on Robert's desk before sitting back down on his chair.

"And what is all of…this, may I ask?" Robert answered intrigued.

"Well your grace, my father is very much concerned with the finances of the realm" I answered "And has done a few inquiries about the status of our debt. It's not good."

Robert grumbled. "Aye, I'm aware we haven't been doing that great, but surely it's not that bad?"

I nearly jolted. "Your grace, the crown is nearly ten million dragons in debt."

Robert nearly spat his wine.

"What?!"

"Indeed, your grace. Our father was concerned with the finances and ordered checks to be done across the North." Theon relayed me. "He managed to find several interesting documents relating to your master of coin."

"These ones?" Robert pointed to the first stack of papers.

"Yes." Theon answered. "It is a record of Lord Baelish's expenditures in his ventures in the north. You will note that a lot of the numbers don't add up, so Lord Stark asked for further records to be sent from Braavos and the Vale, which is why we took so long to talk to you, a raven from the Iron Bank only came three days ago." Theon handed Robert the parchments.

Robert read several pages carefully, his face reddening with rage with every paper he shoved aside.

"That bastard has been stealing from the crown since the day he took office!" Robert scowled.

I ushered him to tone down his voice.

"Be careful, your grace, Lord Baelish is a powerful man, and he has eyes and ears everywhere, including here."

Robert nodded.

"Yes, yes, I'll be more careful, my apologies."

"We are warning you of this because it is highly likely Lord Baelish has been stealing from the lords paramount, especially in the Vale where his influence is massive. Gulltown might as well be named Baelish-town at this point" I continued. "And with Tywin Lannister probably asking to recall all of the debts, Baelish is looking to make a fortune with more loans taken from gods know where. I'd look up the records of his properties in King's Landing, your grace, it is highly likely you'll find more proof of fraud and the like."

Robert continued reading the scrolls as I finished talking.

"This is most valuable, thank you. I'll make sure this mockingbird is dealt with when I return to the capital."

"Be very discreet about it, your grace." Theon added. "Only talk to people you can trust."

Robert nodded, before asking: "And these parchments?"

"Ah." I replied. "These concern the goldcloaks." Robert raised a brow. "My father decided to check the finances of the north as I've said, and during his investigation of the-said Lord Baelish, he uncovered several payments from Lannister-affiliated establishments to several goldcloak commanders, including the commander himself, Janos Slynt."

Robert looked beyond angry at this point.

"There is no doubt," Theon added "That the city watch is more loyal to the Lannisters than to you, although that position might have changed, I advise you to be cautious, your grace."

Robert nodded. "Thank you both for your help. I'll have Lord Tarly deal with them, he should be arriving in the capital before us, I'll send a few ravens to have him come with a strong detachment."

"We will leave the documents with you, your grace." I said as I rose back up from my seat. "My father has a copy and will be glad to send you anything you need."

Robert smiled.

"Well, Ned sure is a true friend." He spoke "Well enough for the night. I expect you both to be at my table for dinner, I am not missing out on one of Jon Stark's songs."

I blushed. Ned decided to hype me up to reform some American classics into Westerosi ones, and I'd obliged, but singing in front of the king of the seven kingdoms was very stressful. Not like Robert would care, but I needed something unique, and I'd found it after hours of thinking. Hopefully it works.

"One more thing before we eat, Greyjoy, could you leave us a moment with Lord Stark?" Robert asked, in a tone that for once, did not carry any sort of condescendence towards Theon.

"Of course, your grace." He replied "Jon, I'll see you at the feast."

I nodded, seeing him exit the tent, before turning back to Robert.

"What would you like to discuss, your grace?"

"You are leaving for White Harbour tomorrow, yes?"

"Indeed, your grace. Arya, the Desert Guard and I are expected there by the end of the week."

"Ah, good girl that sister of yours. A fiery temper, reminds me of my Lyanna." Robert's eyes seemed to be filled with melancholy for a second, before turning to me once more.

"Well anyways, you'll be leaving for Dorne, is that correct?"

"Indeed, your grace."

"Before leaving, did your father reveal to you who your mother was?"

The question was blunt, and I wasn't ready at all for it.

"No, your grace. He told me he'd talk to me about her when I come back."

Robert nodded.

"Listen boy, it isn't really my business to do so, but I can't believe that he'd tell you when you become twenty. I cannot tell you who she is, but I can point you in the right direction at least.

"Which direction, your grace?"

"Starfall. Go to Starfall, boy. Ask for Lady Allyria Dayne, she probably knows more than I do."

Thank god. I thought Robert knew about Jon's real parentage for a second. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I will, thank you, your grace."

"One more thing, Jon."

"Yes, your grace?"

"I have a bastard at Storm's End, Edric Storm." I nod, knew little about him except he's the son of Robert and a highborn lady from the Reach. "I'd like you to take him as a squire."

That was...unexpected.

"A squire, your grace?"

"Yes. Since I plan on sending Joffrey to Storm's End, I don't want them to kill each other when they're there, and Edric would probably beat the shit out of Joffrey anyways. I don't need that kind of trouble, and I'm sure he'll have fun in Dorne. Just...don't mention he's mine will you? As far as he and you are concerned, he's Edric Snow, your squire and bastard of Lord..." the king thought for a second. "of Lord Karstark. Whatever, Lord Rickard values his honour but it's not like he can deny anything from where he's going."

"I...Of course your grace, I'll take him in."

"Good lad, you won't regret it. I'll make arrangements with the Manderly fellow to pick him up at Storm's End."

"Of course, your grace. I've always wanted to see the forteress."

"Ah, it is quite a sight! Well I hope you won't be disappointed. You may leave, Jon, I'll see you at dinner."

"I'll see you there, your grace." I answered as I turned away and out of the royal tent.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Robert boasted about his exploits crushing the rebel Stormlanders at Summerhall, much to the dismay of some Stormlander lords, whose fathers were on the side of the rebels, and didn't escape a few japes from the king. Arya went to bed early, as she'd been training for much of the day, and was beyond tired. Theon and I stayed with the king's company for a while longer, as the moon rose up bright in the sky and the stars made a wonderful display high in the skies. Finally, Theon and I decided to excuse ourselves from the feast, but we were stopped by the king.

"Hold on Stark, I did ask for a song before you left, I'm not letting you go to sleep without hearing one."

I smiled. "I need my instrument, your grace."

"Ser Greenfield, please escort Lord Stark and make sure he comes back."

I laughed; Robert soon followed.

"I'm getting that song, Stark. Your father told me I'd very much like it."

Oh boy, the pressure was on. Ser Greenfield and I rushed to my tent to pick up the luth before hurrying back to the king's camp. I put myself close to the fire, the flames warming up my skin, before holding the modified luth in my hands. The sounds died down, I closed my eyes and started singing.

_A long, long time ago_

_I can still remember how that music used to make me smile_

_And I knew if I had my chance, that I could maybe steal a dance, with that lovely radiant winter star_

_But I never saw her again, and the ravens brought in the pain_

_Bad news on my doorstep_

_I couldn't take one more step_

_I can't remember if I cried, when I learned about my lovely bride_

_And something touched me deep inside, the day that winter died_

_So, bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_And these Stormland boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_Did you write the book of love, and did you have faith in gods above, if the septons tell you so?_

_Did you believe that slaying all, would peace your mortal soul_

_And can you teach me how to live once more_

_Well I know that you're in love with her, cause I saw you dancing near that fir_

_You both kicked off in trance_

_Man, I'd kill for that rhythm and dance_

_I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck, with a big brother and a lot of luck_

_But I knew that luck ran out, the day that winter died_

_I started singing, bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These Northern boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_Now for ten years we've been on our own_

_And moss grows fast on the Eyrie stones_

_But that's not how it used to be_

_When that jester sang from the king and queen_

_In a coat he'd stolen from a ravine_

_And a voice that came for you and me_

_And when the king was looking down, I damn well stole his shitty crown_

_The courtroom was adjourned, no verdict was returned_

_And while Arryns stumbled down the mountain pass, the Royces readied their valiant hearts_

_And we sang dirges in the dark, the day that winter died_

_We were singing_

_Bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These Mountain boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_Growing heather in the summer weather_

_The birds flew off leaving scattered feathers_

_Eight paces long and falling fast_

_We landed foul on the grass; the riders tried to charge en masse_

_With the jester sitting on the side, on his ass_

_Now the river air was sweet perfume_

_While the sergeants played a marching tune_

_We all rose up to dance, but we never got the chance_

_Cause the players tried to take the field_

_Their marching band refused to yield_

_Do you recall, what was revealed, the day that winter died?_

_We started singing_

_Bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These River boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_Oh, and there we were all in one place_

_A generation lost in disgrace_

_With no time to start again_

_So, come on Rob be nimble, Rob be quick_

_White Lewyn sat on a candlestick_

_Cause fire is the king's only friend_

_Oh, and as we watched him on the stage_

_Our hands were clenched in fists of rage_

_No mortal born in hell, could break that demon's spell_

_And as the flames climbed high into the night, to light our sacrificial rite_

_I saw the king laughing with delight, the day that winter died._

_He was singing_

_Bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These Desert boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_I met a girl who sang a tune_

_And I asked her for some happy news_

_But she just smiled and turned away_

_I went down to the sacred isle, where I'd heard the music play in style_

_But the man there said the music wouldn't play_

_And in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed_

_But not a word was spoken, the tower bells all were broken_

_And the three men that I admire most: the sword, dawn and the tower's ghost_

_They caught the last ship for the coast_

_The day that winter died_

_And they were singing_

_Bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These Crownland boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

_"This'll be the day that I die."_

_They were singing_

_Bye, bye to the Red Dragon's pride_

_Killed it at the Trident with my blood running dry_

_These Northern boys were drinking whiskey and wine, singing "This will be the day that I die"_

The whole crowd was now silent and staring, some with tears in their eyes, some just too dumbstruck to move. The king didn't move, and instead muttered three words in between tears.

"Thank you, Jon."

**Eddard V**

Ned moved into the refurbished great hall. Everything was finally ready for the great meeting between the lords of the North, and he wanted everything to go without a hitch. He had ordered the builders to bring the massive map of the North he had in his solar into the great hall in order to better show the situation to the lords of the north, a sort of medieval PowerPoint. Things would be so much better with PowerPoint.

Robb came beside him as he watched the final preparations being set.

"The lords are ready father."

Ned nodded.

"Thanks Robb, is Mance ready?"

"As ready as can be, hopefully the lords don't straight up murder him when they'll see him."

"Yeah that would be quite unfortunate. We've heard from Castle Black yet?"

"Lord Commander Mormont has delegated Ser Denys Mallister to be his representative at the meeting. He's meeting the lords right now."

"Is he briefed?"

"I doubt Mormont wouldn't have briefed him, but yes, he knows everything, including Operation Winter Strike."

"Perfect, warn Maester Luwin and Ser Denys, I don't intend on delaying the council much longer."

Robb nodded and scurried off. Ned breathed in heavily, he will need to put up a great performance today, the fate of the world might hang in the balance. Ned meditated for a second. Had he made the right choices? Arya and Sansa would be safe, hopefully and far away from danger, but he'd sent Jon away as well. He'd need his help one day or another, but recalling him won't be easy. And then there was the matter of the Targaryens. Was he right in trusting that Daenerys would come to their aid, would take the throne and be a good queen? Or would she turn to the dark side and will it all have been for nothing?

Ned was pulled out of his reverie by Robb, who came in with Maester Luwin and Ser Denys. Ned exchanged a few words with both of them, especially Maester Luwin, as Bran had woken up a day before, and was in good health, but was guarded by three guards and two direwolves all day. He also asked Ser Denys about the status of Operation Winter Strike and got the answer he was waiting for; his brother had gone north and so far, no casualties had been to blame from wildlings. All he had to do now was wait and hope that the expedition would yield the results he expected before he arrived himself at Castle Black. He gestured them to sit down, and they did. Ned sat in the center of the table, with Robb and Maester Luwin on his left, while Denys Mallister sat to his right. With all of them in place, he gestured for the guards to open the hall doors.

Suddenly, the peace and quiet of the halls was met with the cacophony of the lords and ladies hurrying inside the hall. Ned instantly recognized several sigils, the Merman of the Manderlys, the Flayed Man of the Boltons, the Moose of Hornwood, the White Sun of the Karstarks, the Bear of the Mormonts and the glove of Glover. Other sigils walked in, and Ned had trouble identifying them, despite the help Robb had given him these past few days, as he spent a few seconds trying to figure out which was which. Lizard-Lion, easy, that's Reed, two keys on tricolour, lock and key, that's House Locke. Ned's eyes continued wandering around the room, the giant that's Umber. Ned always thought the Umber sigil was just broken chains. The forest firs, those were the Liddles, the horse was likely Ryswell, the two axes Dustin, the two eyes Flint, the buckets Wull, the frogs Marsh, the pine trees Tallhart and the sword and horseshoes he didn't know. Only one out of fifteen, that's pretty good, he reckoned.

The cacophony finally stopped as Ned stood up to address the room.

"My lords and ladies. Please quiet down and sit."

Ned was surprised as to how fast everyone took their seats.

"I suppose you all want to know why I've summoned you here." Ned continued.

"You want us to give those wildlings beyond the wall a good bashin'!" a man in Karstark colours bellowed.

"Aye, the watch has been in need of help the past few moons. Our numbers have been dwindling and we are down to three forts on the wall." Ser Denys answered. "But Lord Stark has something else in mind."

"What, we're not to go kick that good-for-nothing king of those savages beyond the wall's ass back to the Frostfangs?" a man in Umber colours retorted.

"No. We aren't." Ned stopped him as the lords mumbled in confusion. "But you are right about one thing, we are going to the Wall to assist the Watch, and I will need your banners to do so."

"To do what?" a fat Manderly man called out.

"Calm down Wyman." A voice came out from beside him, lizard-lion, that was Howland Reed. "He has something to show us."

Ned nodded. "Jory, please bring in our guest."

Jory nodded and let in Mance Rayder. A few lords looked puzzled and turned to Ned Stark for an explanation.

"My lords" Ned spoke, "This is Mance Rayder, the king beyond-the-wall."

The room erupted into a cacophony again, with some voices erupting, notably from the Karstark and Umber camps, roaring to kill the man. Rayder stayed very calm during the ordeal, not letting a single emotion transpire.

"Silence!" Ned howled, and the hall voices died down again.

"What is that wilding cunt doing here. I say we just kill him and be done with it!" Rickard Karstark bellowed again.

This time it was Robb that spoke, with an icy tone in his voice.

"He is under guest rights, you will not harm him, or have you forgotten your honour Lord Karstark?"

"Are you questioning my honour, boy?" the lord spat out.

"I'm not questioning anything." Robb answered.

"I said silence for fuck's sake!" Ned lashed out, this time the room died down instantly.

"Good, now as I was saying, this is Mance Rayder, king-beyond-the-wall." Ned continued "He is here under guest rights and if you harm a single hair on his head, I'll have you thrown into a cell where you can join the kingslayer. Now, I have brought Mance here because I wanted him to make his case before you. Mance if you please."

The man stood up in front of the lords and started talking.

"I don't want to fight. I really don't. Lord Stark here has assured me that it will be the last resort option. All I want is for my people to get over your damn wall. I have a host of 100,000 fighting men, with more women and children waiting, and all of them will become one more wight in the army of the dead if you do not let us through."

Several gasps were heard throughout the room.

"Yes, you heard me damn well. I don't want an alliance with the crows, I don't want to suck up to the people who murder my people every now and then, who think less of us just because we were born on the wrong side of your fucking wall. I just want my people to live. We're getting hunted. Winter is coming, the dead are marching, marching for us all, ask the crow fellow over here."

Ser Denys rose.

"It's true. We sent ranging expeditions past the wall at the Shadow Tower, and none have come back."

"The wildlings ambushed them!" a voice cried out.

"No." Mance answered. "We don't have anyone that side of the wall. All our forces are at Hardhome or close to Eastwatch and Castle Black. No one has lived in the Shadow Tower area in two years."

Ser Denys nodded. "Yet I've lost two expeditions there, in good conditions, no wind, no blizzards, sunny skies and normal temperatures."

"The cold has to have gotten to the! Or wild animals!" another voice rose up.

Ser Denys shook his head. "No. We also sent two expeditions past the wall from Castle Black towards the Shadow Tower area. One ranging party under Ser Waymar Royce never came back. Another went missing but we found the bodies, brought them back to Castle Black." Denys Mallister then eyed the whole room. "The bodies came alive that night. Men who were as dead as those Starks in the crypts suddenly stood and walked. They attacked the Lord Commander but brother Samwell killed both with a shard of dragonglass. The third was lit on fire by brother Rickard and was also put to sleep before he did any damage." The room was silent. "This happened as I told you, right before I left for Winterfell, and that I swear upon my honour, the old gods and the new that it is true."

The room fell silent.

"As such." Ned stood up again, thanking Ser Denys for his speech. "I've reached a pre-agreement with the wildlings. I'll allow a forward force of five thousand to settle in the Gift and the New Gift. I want to allow the rest of them through, but for that I need your assent. I'll let them all through. Ned pointed at the map. They'll be allowed to settle on the Gift and New Gift, and for those who want to swear fealties, allowed to settle on lands more to the south provided they kneel to the lords of those lands. In exchange, they will obey northern laws and all swear fealty to me while they are south of the wall. They will man the Wall's forts, which are in dire need of men, and help with reinforcing Last Hearth, Karhold, Mormont Keep, Barrowtown and Moat Cailin. Lords Umber and Karstark, you will receive repayment for degradation of your lands from the wildlings these past years, and each of you lords will get a first son or daughter of a wildling clan to ensure their best behaviour. They are to be treated as honourably as demanded."

Ned inhaled.

"But I won't let them through until you have some proof of the Others' existence, and that is why we are moving North. We ride to Castle Black with the forward elements of the Northern Army. The Heavy Horse under Lord Hornwood's command will stay at Winterfell in case of any trouble south. Meanwhile we shall rush to Castle Black where Lord Commander Mormont has sent a ranging party north to find the Others. And that's where we will go beyond-the-wall."

"You mean to venture beyond the wall?" Maege Mormont asked.

"Yes, and so will you my lords. My brother Benjen has the task of locating a small group of undead so that I may show you that these are indeed not legends."

"What, why would we go there?" asked the Greatjon Umber.

"Because you all need some convincing. And when you see the true threat, then we can welcome the wildlings south. And if we don't find the Others? Well then, we get to kick some wildling ass anyways Lord Umber."

The lords nodded around the room, when finally, Lord Karstark spoke.

"I've known you for a long time Ned. You wouldn't be the one making assumptions from stories. I'll follow you north, but I won't accept the wildlings crossing the wall until I see a dead man walking myself."

"I didn't expect less of you Rickard."

The man nodded. "We stand with House Stark, we ride to Castle Black!" Rickard shouted.

"Aye, we ride North" Maege Mormont replied

"We go North" Howland Reed yelled with a smile

And soon the room erupted in chants. God please help me, Ned thought, please tell me Benjen managed to find the Others, please make him come back. We need this proof, and I just bet the North on it.

**Robb IV**

Robb hadn't expected the meeting to go so well, by the end of the day every house was ready to ride north, with the cavalry units moving first, while the infantry would follow. It would take a good four days to reach the wall, but hopefully it'd be worth it. Robb readied his horse, but was interrupted as Ned called him out.

"Robb, can you come for a second?"

"What's up?"

"Howland Reed asked to see both of us privately."

"You mean he wanted to see you and you need me to tag along?"

Ned shook his head.

"No, he wants to see you and me, in private, with his son."

Huh, this was unexpected. Robb hadn't seen his son at the meeting of the lords, or anywhere in Winterfell either. He'd been looking for Meera Reed as well, but she wasn't to be found. Whatever. If Jojen knew something that could help us with the damn others, he'd need to know.

He and Ned walked into his father's solar, where indeed Howland Reed and his son Jojen were waiting.

"Lord Reed." Robb nodded as he closed the door behind him. "What did you want to talk about?"

The crannogman smiled before glancing at them both.

"So, it is true. The Starks have died and been born again. You were right Jojen."

Ned opened his mouth but Howland cut him off.

"No, I won't let this secret escape Ned. I know you aren't the same, my son has the greensight, he's seen it. And as far as I'm concerned you both have some of your past "selves" in you, I've seen it."

"How…" Ned glared at them, but Robb knew how, That Jojen kid hadn't talked since the meeting had started and he was starting to give him the creeps.

"It isn't important." Jojen finally spoke, taking his eyes off Robb as he breathed in relief internally. "What is important is you are aware of the enemy to the North. The great other and his army are marching on the wall."

"Yes." Robb spoke up. "The Night King and his army are on the march. Did you see it in your visions as well?"

Jojen nodded. "The greensight is useful, but very…basic, flawed. There is much I cannot see, although my father has taught me much." Howland nodded. "But I cannot warg into much else than a few birds or the occasional lizard-lion. You on the other hand…you can warg into direwolves, but you can do so much more."

"So, you want to give us warging lessons?" Ned questioned.

"No." Jojen replied. "You will learn on your own, as you've done many times before. You do not need me for that, but one of you can learn so much more, that is the broken wolf."

"Bran…" Ned whispered.

"Ned I'll get straight to the point." Howland looked him in the eyes. "If you know the Others are coming, then you know only two people can defeat the great other, the prince that was promised and the three-eyed-raven."

Robb winced, he didn't like where this was going, at all. Jojen took the lead from his father.

"Even with all your northern armies you cannot stop them." Jojen said gravely. "There will come a time where the winter's horn will blow. The wall will fall and the dead will come. The North can't stop them. Dragons can't stop them. The whole Seven Kingdoms cannot stop them. Only the Three-Eyed Raven can provide the Prince-who-was-promised the knowledge to stop the great other, and defeat the invasion, to stop them from bringing the second long night, the night that will never end."

Ned gulped and Robb shuddered as he sensed the doom in the boy's voice. Howland continued.

"The broken wolf has to become the next three-eyed raven, Ned. You know it."

"You want me to let Bran go north of the wall; you cannot be serious Howland!" Ned gasped.

"He won't go alone. Jojen will come with me, and I'll accompany him as well. Three crannogmen with the greensight will also come. I promise I'll bring him back, but Ned please, we need him if we are going to beat what's coming."

Robb turned to Ned, who looked aghast.

"You are asking me to give away my son…"

And at that moment he knew it wasn't his friend talking, but the real Ned Stark. The one who cared about his family, and who'd never put them in danger. Robb himself didn't want Bran to go, but deep down he knew he couldn't stop him. They'd failed at protecting him once…

"The three-eyed raven guided him to that tower." Jojen remarked. "I talked with the broken wolf; he has no memory of how he got there. The three-eyed raven made a great sacrifice by making him climb that tower, the next three-eyed raven must be the broken wolf, after all the sacrifices, he has to be."

Ned exploded.

"What the actual fuck do you mean? I won't let my son go beyond the wall! He's crippled! He cannot defend himself. I've seen my brother die, I've seen my father die, I've seen my sister die, I sent my daughter and my wife to the ends of Westeros, I've sent my youngest daughter with Lyanna's son to a place even further away, and now you are asking me to send my second son beyond the wall? Have you gone mad, Howland?"

"He needs to…" Robb suddenly muttered, both from fear of the voice that came from Ned and from the realisation that dawned on him. "It was inevitable. He needs to go North, father."

Suddenly, Ned's anger disappeared and he collapsed onto his chair, weeping.

"I…I know." He suddenly muttered. "He…he showed me, but…Bran, no…must protect the pack."

"I'll protect him, Ned, I swear it. I'll lay my life down for him." Howland answered. "Please Ned, I beg you. He has to go. Please remember the tower, what you said to me…"

"I owe you my life, Reed, thank you." Ned's voice came between tears. "Fine. But if anything happens to him, the seven kingdoms won't be able to hold what I'll unleash, Howland."

Howland nodded. Robb raised an eyebrow, if Bran doesn't come back, we're all dead men anyways.

"Wait a second, how are we going to convince Catelyn and Maester Luwin and all of Winterfell for that matter that Bran hasn't been stolen away?"

"They won't have to. Secure Bran's chamber, make then think he went to sleep again, and he isn't to be disturbed by anyone but Maester Luwin. You can trust him." Howland said. "No one will know if Bran was ever gone."

Ned nodded. Robb bowed his head slightly. Before any of them could say anything, Jojen started speaking again.

"You make the right choice Lord Stark. There will come a time when the False Raven will sound the voice of doom. The shield that guards the realms of men will crumble and the night will unleash itself upon the world. The Old Wolf will howl, and the bear, giant and white sun will heed the call. Both lions, toothless and one-eyed, will save the all-seeing raven, and one of them will lay his pelt for him. The Young Wolf and the Dragon Prince will unite the realms of man to the north to protect the all-seeing raven. Falcon, trout, lion, stag, Morningstar, sun and spear, rose and dragon will rise to the call of the living. The white dragon will come back with her two sons and the dragon charmer, and that dragon will safekeep the realms of men. The old pacts will be fulfilled and the prince who was promised will usher in the dawn of the long peace. Your family will rule kingdoms, Lord Stark, I can promise you."

Ned nodded, and Howland put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ned, I know how hard it is, but we must do it.

Ned nodded and asked.

"When are you leaving?"

"When Robb will come back to Winterfell, we won't be here any longer."

"That's very vague." Robb said.

"I have to, no one must know exactly when we are leaving. There are other forces at play."

Robb nodded.

"And Meera?"

"She stays at Greywater Watch. There must always be a Reed in the Neck."

Robb nodded.

"It's settled then, you, Jojen and three men on an expedition north?"

"No." Jojen said. "There is one more. The false lioness, she comes as well."

"Myrcella?" Ned asked. "You can't be serious."

"We won't force her. But she will insist to join, she blames her family for what happened to him, she wants to protect him."

"Fine, but if any harm comes to her…" Ned said. "Well you know what happens."

Howland nodded.

"I know, and I won't fail you. May we take our leave, we need to arrange the journey north."

Ned nodded and the Reed pair exited the room. Robb turned to Ned, who was white as a sheet.

"Are you alright, Ned?"

"Yeah, I think so, I…what happened?"

"Fucking prophecies happened. Doesn't matter now. We need to go."

Ned nodded as the exited the solar. Robb headed straight for the stables, but something didn't feel right as he loaded his saddle bags. He raced back to the courtyard, finding Catelyn and Sansa staring at him. Without a second thought, he raced towards them, first stopping before Catelyn.

"Goodbye mother, safe travels." Robb embraced her.

"Good lick out there, when I'll see you again, I expect you to be married and a man."

"I'll do my best, mother." Robb then turned to Sansa and embraced her as well.

"Farwell, little sister. We'll meet again soon I hope."

"Please come visit soon, Robb." Sansa answered.

"I hope I will. I've always wanted to see Highgarden. Take care of your mother and yourself there, and treat Lady right" Robb said, hearing the whines of Grey Wind as he eyed the other direwolf.

"I will." Sansa answered.

Robb turned to Grey Wind and nodded.

"Come on boy, let's go."

Soon, he was saddled up on his horse, the walls of Winterfell soon disappearing behind the mists of the north. Hopefully this'll be over soon, I need to come back. I have to, he thought, as the last towers faded out of sight, and Robb looked north, to Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was super long to write, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.  
> Several things, I think I'll do three mini-updates per week instead of all 3 in one go since the arcs separate from now on (except Robb/Ned but those will split as well)  
> Bran still goes beyond-the-wall, but this time I thought it'd be better he not be accompanied by two small children only, especially since Reed was summoned north.  
> For those who wonder how Ned managed to convince the northern lords so easily, he still commands respect and they're willing to follow him because they do still trust him. Ned is betting a lot on this expedition, because if he fails to find the others, he basically loses all the trust of the northern lords.  
> Next update will come in three parts: Beginning of the Dorne/Reach Arc with Jon and Arya, Beginning of the mini-arc at Moat Cailin with Theon and the start of the Wall arc with Ned. There will be a small time-skip after the two first parts of Chapter VIII (about 6 months) where we'll dive into some action (not that there won't be any in the other chapters)  
> Finally I really wanted to put in one of my all-time favourite songs in this fic, so here it goes (bonus points if you can find the signification behind each verse).


	8. Chapter VII, Part 1: Arrivals - Jon V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Arya arrive in Sunspear. The welcome is...mixed.

**Chapter VII  
**

**Part 1**

**Jon V**

"We will be arriving soon."

Finally, the long-awaited sound. It had been three weeks since Arya and I departed White Harbour and the journey seemed endless. I'd been sailing quite a lot, but never for that extended amount of time. Thankfully, the direwolves and I hadn't become seasick, contrarily to Arya, who had been quite green during the first few days, before becoming used to it. I looked at the horizon, and saw the coast coming into view, the landscape of Dorne finally becoming visible. I smiled, and went below deck to check on Arya, we wouldn't be docking for a good three to four hours anyways.

"So how are you doing Arya?"

"Alright."

Arya hadn't been very talkative during the trip, mostly trying to practice with Needle and playing with Nymeria. We hadn't had any long conversations other than the occasional talk about how bad the food or the weather was. The only time she'd been happy was when we made landfall at Storm's End, the massive fortress unveiling itself before our eyes. It had indeed surpassed my expectations, as the castle looked massive from both sea and land, and it was no wonder the Tyrells needed to blockade it from both land and sea during the Rebellion for the siege to work.

Arya and I had enjoyed our short stay there, visiting the castle and meeting Edric Storm. The kid was quite nice, although he was quite intimidated by the direwolves at first. At least he'd struck a chord with Arya, teaching her some swordplay. However, he'd been transferred to the _Hornet_ instead of the _Enterprise_ under Lord Manderly's supervision until we'd arrived in Sunspear. I chuckled internally. The Manderlys had gifted us three war galleys for our personal use while in Dorne, and were redecorated with the direwolf sails. I'd baptised them myself, naming them _Enterprise_ , _Hornet_ and _Ranger_. My first thoughts were more inclined towards _Bismarck, Richelieu_ and _Yamato_ but I'd doubt anyone at all would understand the meaning of those, so the three U.S carrier names would have to do for now.

Since Edric Storm had been put on the _Hornet,_ Arya's mood darkened again. No doubt the Storm kid had left quite an impression on her, I'd have to keep them close in the future. In the meantime, I'd have to try and cheer her up.

"Stressed?" I said, trying to steer the conversation somewhere.

"Not really." She answered.

"What's on your mind? You seem distant ever since we left Storm's End."

"I've been thinking, that's all."

"Thinking about what?"

"Where did you learn to sing?"

Huh, so that's why she was so distant, weird.

"I taught myself, why?"

"Singing is for ladies only."

"That's not true, Arya. Actually, singing is a good way of telling a story, it doesn't need to be reserved for the ladies."

"So that's why you like singing, to tell stories?"

"Not only, singing can also encourage people when they go to war. It makes them forget about what is coming ahead and think about a happy moment, or a sad one, and when everyone joins in on it, it makes for a huge motivation, encouraging the men before a fight."

Arya looked interested now.

"Huh, and do you know any songs like these?"

"I might just know one. Could you pass me my guitar?"

Arya handed me the modified luth, looking at me with curious eyes, while both Ghost and Nymeria lied down in front of me as I started fiddling with the strings.

_Up to King's Landing came_

_A Northern man one day_

_All the streets were paved with shit_

_To everyone's dismay_

_Singing songs of Barrowtown_

_Karhold and Winterfell_

_Till Rickard got excited and_

_He shouted to them there_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_It's a long way to go_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_To the sweetest girl I know_

_Goodbye to the Eyrie_

_Farewell Riverrun_

_It's a long long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_But my heart is right there_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_It's a long way to go_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_To the sweetest girl I know!_

_Goodbye to the Eyrie_

_Farewell Riverrun_

_It's a long long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_But my heart is right there_

_Rickard sent a raven_

_To his dearest darling oh_

_Saying should you not receive it_

_Write and let me know_

_If I make mistakes in spelling_

_My dearest said he_

_Remember it's the ink that's bad_

_Don't lay the blame on me_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_It's a long way to go_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_To the sweetest girl I know!_

_Goodbye to the Eyrie_

_Farewell Riverrun_

_It's a long long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_But my heart is right there_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_It's a long way to go_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_To the sweetest girl I know!_

_Goodbye to the Eyrie_

_Farewell Riverrun_

_It's a long long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_But my heart is right there_

_His dearest wrote a sweet reply_

_To our dearest Rickard-oh_

_Saying that Mormont man_

_Wants to marry me and so_

_Leave King's Landing and the God's Eye_

_Or you'll be to blame_

_For love has fairly drove me silly_

_Hoping you're the same_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_It's a long way to go_

_It's a long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_To the sweetest girl I know!_

_Goodbye to the Eyrie_

_Farewell Riverrun_

_It's a long long way to Winterfell's Walls_

_But my heart is right there_

I stopped and Arya looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.

"So that's what people would sing when they go to war?" she finally asked.

"Yes, I guess they would. Men going to war would like to think about their loved ones, their families, where they come from it makes them remember who and what they fight for."

Arya looked at me, before smiling and nodding.

"I guess I won't look at singing the same way again."

"Nothing is what it seems, speaking of which Arya, father wanted me to tell you when I got to Sunspear, but now is as good a time as any. He has a surprise for you."

"Another sword?" Arya rose up expectedly.

"No, nothing like that. A dance master."

Arya's smile disappeared.

"But I don't want to learn to dance."

"Arya, what have I told you about how nothing was what it seems?"

"By dancing, do you mean?"

"Yes, he was the first sword to the Sealord of Braavos, his name is Syrio Forel. He should come to give you and Edric private lessons at Sunspear when we arrive, and teach you how to properly use your Needle."

Arya showed another great radiant smile, before hugging me.

"You're the best, Jon!"

"Just…promise me you'll behave when we'll be introduced to the Martell family, will you? I haven't come all this way for them to just chuck us back to White Harbour, and I doubt your stomach would take it either."

Arya nodded.

"As long as they don't insult us, I'll be on my best behaviour promise."

"Good, now let's get our things ready, Captain Josmond said we'd be arriving soon."

And indeed, soon enough the _Enterprise, Hornet_ and _Ranger_ soon came to port at Sunspear. The first thing that struck me was the blistering heat, it had been like Casablanca all over again. Thinking quickly, I took part of a shirt I had and fashioned it into a makeshift headcloth and urging Arya and Edric, who'd joined us on the docks, to do the same. I scouted the docks with Lord Manderly, when a man clad in Martell colours came up to us.

"Lord Stark, Lord Manderly, I presume?" he asked, eyeing Ghost and Nymeria wearily.

"Jon Stark." I answered. "This is Lord Wendel Manderly, and to my left are my sister Arya Stark and my squire Edric Snow. Don't worry about our direwolves, they won't hurt anyone"

"Well met. My name is Manfrey Martell, please, follow me, Prince Oberyn is expecting you."

I nodded. "Please lead the way, Ser Manfrey."

Soon enough, we left the busy docks of Sunspear and headed up towards the inner city. The city in itself was bustling with activity, with merchants and traders setting up shop in an area reminding me of the grand bazars of Marrakech and Fez. Finally, we headed up a road leading to a castle overlooking the city and the sea. My first thought when looking at it was that it resembled the Alhambra in Grenada, but was slightly smaller in size. However, much of the architecture was the same, with great towers overlooking the main gate, all decorated in great detail, with white stone embellishing the ramparts of the castle. A quite beautiful sight, that I could have enjoyed if I wasn't close to shitting my pants as to the mention of meeting Oberyn "the Red Viper" Martell himself.

Finally, the gate opened and Ser Manfrey led us inside the castle, which was richly decorated on the inside, with several small gardens and fountains filled with orange and olive trees. Ser Manfrey led us to a beautifully ornated room, before announcing his presence. As the doors opened, he leaned towards us.

"Prince Oberyn will receive you. If you need anything I am at your service, you may find me in the Governor's tower."

"You have my thanks Ser Manfrey." I said, as the man excused himself.

Suddenly the door creaked open, revealing a man in ornate clothing decorated with the sun and spear of House Martell. The man judged us carefully, and I resisted the urge to say "Wow, so you are actually Pedro Pascal. The resemblance is nearly flawless." But I didn't have the time, as the man finally spoke.

"So you are the northerners?"

I looked around, looking at Lord Wendel, Arya, the six to seven guards with us, before turning back to the man.

"Yes, it would seem so. Prince Oberyn, I presume?"

"You presume well, Stark." The man spat out that last part with a hint of disdain. "I am Prince Oberyn Martell. My brother is unfortunately not able to receive you as he is confined to the Water Gardens, but he has arranged a meeting with both of you Starks tomorrow. In the meantime, he charged me to introduce you to where you'll be staying, and to introduce you to the rest of the family, including the young one's betrothed."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Oberyn."

"No need to, your guards will be looked after and placed in the East Barracks. Lord Wendel, I have a room ready for you in the Eastern Tower. As for your beasts…"

"They stay with us." I spoke. "They stay in our rooms."

Oberyn looked at us with a hint of surprise, before continuing.

"As you wish, in the meantime, would you both please follow me, let us introduce your sister to her betrothed."

I nodded, as Arya made a slight face.

"My squire comes as well." I gestured to Edric as the boy followed me and Arya, behind Oberyn, as Lord Manderly and the Stark guards were led by Ser Manfrey to their own quarters. Oberyn made a sign to follow him through the corridors, and we followed him through several passageways.

"A very nice castle you have here, Prince Oberyn." I said, trying to break the silence.

"Yes, although I rarely get to enjoy it anymore, me and my sister Elia would love to go around the castle, marvelling at the white towers and gardens and pools. Now, it only brings up bad memories."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't be sorry." He cut me off "It isn't your place to be sorry."

"You're not the only one who lost someone in the war, Prince Oberyn. I lost a grandfather, an aunt, an uncle, a mother…"

Oberyn's eyes narrowed slightly, before stopping and setting them on me. Not going to lie, I damn well nearly pissed myself as he looked me up and down, but the prince relaxed and said in a softer voice.

"You may be right. We both lost people we love, forgive my impertinence Lord Stark, you aren't guilty of your father's crimes."

What fucking crimes you idiot? Oh whatever, my mouth will get me killed if I press the issue further. Prince Oberyn continued going down a door, before stopping and opening, revealing a beautiful room and salon, where three people who were sitting stood up, all with fixed gazes on Arya, I and of course the direwolves. Prince Oberyn turned back to us, before speaking once more:

"I welcome you both to Sunspear, Lord and Lady Stark."

"I'm not a Lady!" Arya cried out, earning a chuckle out of all four people present.

"Arya it is then?" Prince Oberyn asked.

"Aye. Just, no Lady, I'm not one."

"Very well, Arya, pleased to finally meet you." Said the younger of the three who just rose.

"Ah, my apologies, my youngest nephew, Prince Trystayne." Said Oberyn, as the young prince bowed slightly. Trystayne was quite young compared to what I imagined. The young boy had an olive skin, just like most sandy dornish, but his hair was dark, darker than the others, with long, straight hair, running to slightly above his shoulders. He was certainly handsome, handsomer than the man to his right.

"And please, don't call me Lord either." I stood up. "A royal decree doesn't change who I am. Call me Jon, if it pleases you." I bowed slightly. "And this is my squire, Edric Snow." I gestured to the storm lord who exchanged a quick bow.

"Do not fear, we don't harm little girls in Dorne. And we do not look at bastards in contempt." The man to Trystayne's left said.

"Ah, my apologies…Jon. My older nephew, Quentyn."

I exchanged a slight bow with him. The man was older and much less handsome than his younger brother. He had the brightest hair of all of the Martells, with brown hair flowing up to his shoulders, and a broad face. No wonder some called him the frog, I even wondered if he ever smiled, what would happen if we put this guy and Stannis in the same room, who would smile first? It could take ages. I snapped out of it, and as Quentyn's gaze was fixed on the direwolves, I felt obliged to introduce them.

"Ah, and finally, our direwolves. The larger white one is mine; his name is Ghost."

"And the smaller, much better one" Arya smirked at me as I exchanged a smile "Is mine and is named Nymeria. They are both part of the family."

"Nymeria? Like the princess?" the last person in the room spoke up.

"Yes, she was a strong woman, she's one of my favourites, when she came to Westeros with her ten thousand ships and how she unified Dorne." Arya said excitedly. "I'm glad you like the name, Prince?"

"Princess." The woman spoke up. "My name is Princess Arianne" she cut Oberyn off before he could introduce her. "The heir to Dorne."

Of course, she had to add that bit in as she smiled at us. Princess Arianne was stunningly beautiful of course, but I knew I had to tread carefully in here, lest I end up like Arys Oakheart. She woman had long, dark hair flowing up to her back where they'd end up curling over each other. She was short, nearly shorter than her younger brother, but she made up for that with her elegance which made her stand out from the room. While her brother was shy and reserved, she made her presence known.

"You are both welcome here, Starks, and I wish to know you both better soon." She concluded.

Oh boy, let's be careful here, and tread as carefully as if we were on a pit of vipers. Things could get out of hand very fast.

"Now that the presentations are done, I'll have you escorted to your rooms. Unfortunately I am needed elsewhere, my paramour calls for me. Trystayne, please escort your betrothed to the Northern quarters."

The young boy nodded, and tried to take Arya by the hand.

"Try and take my arm and I'll break it."

The boy didn't feel offended and instead chuckled slightly, earning a small smile from Arya as he and Arya disappeared in the hallway. Perfect, now Quentyn will escort me to my chambers and I won't be tempted by…

"If you don't mind, uncle, I'll escort Jon to his chambers" the princess said. Oh, for fuck's sake. "Quentyn, please escort young Snow here to his, in the Lower Hall if I'm not mistaken." The younger Martell nodded and waved Edric to come with him.

As Arianne started leading the way, I finally spoke

"Erm, Princess, do you know where my room is?"

"Of course, it's in the Northeast quarter, next to mine." She said that last part with a smile.

I turned to Oberyn with a mystified gaze, but the prince was now smirking, nearly laughing.

"Shall we go?" Arianne turned to me with a smile as she brought out her arm.

"Lead the way princess." I answered as I took her arm, signalling Ghost to follow me. One more look at Oberyn and I saw that he was almost laughing as the princess led me down the hallway.

Well shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up fusing two chapters together since they were in quick succession and quite short. This is Part 1/3 for Chapter 7, the other chapter parts should be shorter.


	9. Chapter VII, Part 2: Arrivals - Theon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon arrives at the Moat and trains the Northern Engineers.

**Chapter VII**

**Part II  
**

**Theon III  
**

A month had passed since he arrived at Moat Cailin, and slowly he really began regretting his decision to go to Moat Cailin. It was hotter than Winterfell for sure, and he wouldn’t trade freezing his balls off at the wall with Ned and Robb for anything, nor would he go sweat off 24 hours a day in Dorne with Jon, but the Moat had a lot of downsides. The weather was humid and mosquitoes wandered around trying to suck his blood every day of the week. Fucking shit world, no insecticide, no protection, this will not be that smooth.

At least the rest had been going well, he’d marvelled at the layout of the castle. Despite being a ruin, the Moat looked very impressive, and Theon did indeed see how it was rumoured to be impregnable during its heyday, and he would ensure it to be restored to its former glory as quickly and efficiently as possible. Not all twenty towers could be restored, the North didn’t have that amount of money, but at least half of them could. Three towers already had been raised back up, and the rest were underway.

Theon had insisted in reinforcing all sides of the Moat. Although the southern side was easily defendable, the northern side wasn’t at all prepared for any attacks, and Theon made sure to reinforce that area. He also made efforts to counter any potential attacks from the Fever to the West, where the Ironborn had attacked in Canon, essentially locking the fortress from any sea attack and to reinforce the east in case any army tried to outflank White Harbour. Well, Theon hoped, hopefully the dead will halt at the Wall and all of this will be for nothing.

It was the first time he’d hoped he wouldn’t need to use his creation ever, and after all, that was probably the goal of any fortress. Truthfully, Theon hadn’t constructed a castle ever, nor anything close to that, so he stayed away from the most technical stuff, but ensured the logistics were always clean. Furthermore, he’d planned to arm the castle towers with ballistae. The castle was impervious from attacks from sea and land, but what about from the air? He knew well what happened to Harrenhall, much larger than the Moat, supposedly impregnable, and all it took was dragonfire to bring it down. Not that he’d expect Daenerys to use dragons against it, well hopefully anyways, but he’d been taught to consider every possibility and so he did.

Ordering people around was also somewhat a problem. Although Theon had the authority by Ned Stark to get shit done, the people around him still eyed him wearily, as a stranger, a Greyjoy. They called him “the Squid” or “Squiddie”, and he had to ensure if not respect, then a minimum of obedience. He’d reformed the construction process slightly, using the new rice fields around the Moat and the crops on the land of the Moat to organize food drives for the workers. Better hours, work conditions, food, he had surprised himself as to how much better people worked with these, and how much they’d come to like him. The overseers didn’t like it of course, but the results were there, and Theon now at least had the support of the labourers. He wasn’t at the point of creating labour unions, but he’d been pretty close once as workers started asking him for arbitration over disagreements with some of their overseers. Hopefully they wouldn’t learn what a strike is for the next hundred years.

Theon sat down at his table, looking over the new plans for the Western towers, as he took a bite out of his ham sandwich. That had also been one of his introductions to the construction site. One day, he didn’t have his breakfast or lunch, and therefore had to hastily prepare a ham and cheese sandwich to eat while overseeing the construction of trenches around the fortress. Labourers had been intrigued and Theon had answered that it was an easy way of transporting food anywhere. Just put your meal between two pieces of bread and you can carry it anywhere with you, even on the construction site, so you didn’t need to come back down from where you were to get a bowl of soup on the other side of the construction site. It took ground immediately, as dozens of labourers suddenly found themselves with “Squiddies” in their hands. They didn’t like the Sand-Witch name, as most of them just didn’t see where the sand part or the witch part came in. Since Theon had introduced it, they’d just named it after him.

Theon sighed. Today was a good sunny day, and that meant the Northern Engineers would have another war exercise he’d need to oversee.

“Lord Liddle?” he asked. Morgan Liddle was the captain of the Northern Engineers while the other northmen were at Castle Black or Winterfell.

“Morgan, please, Lord Greyjoy. My father is lord, I’m merely his son. You may also call me Middle Liddle but I’ve learnt it’s quite the mouthful.” The short but very built man answered.

“What’s the plan for today then, Morgan?”

“Today we bring out the siege towers. We’ve constructed three over the past days and the men are eager to try them out.”

“Perfect, which tower are they going to fake assault?”

“It should be the Children’s Tower, my lord.”

“They like a challenge.”

Liddle laughed. “That they do, they’ve been extremely motivated ever since they managed to construct that bridge over the Moat overnight two moons ago. Since then the castle defenders have lost time and time again.”

Theon smiled. The Northern Engineers had been reinforced with a further thousand men, mostly carpenters, builders and blacksmiths who shared their time between the construction and the corps. It had been tricky to organize war games with the construction going on, but he had insisted that it would point out flaws in the design of the Moat that would ensure they could be fixed. So far fourteen war games had been put into place and the Engineers had managed to “take” the castle seven times, the last five times in a row. They were getting experienced while although the garrison of the Moat was small and relatively inexperienced, they were also being pushed to the limit and knew the terrain well.

“Well then, let’s watch them at work.”

Theon and Morgan Liddle stepped outside, Theon breathing in the fresh air. It was chilly, but much more bearable than Winterfell. On the way to the Children’s tower, he saluted several construction workers, who smiled and nodded at him. He looked around, as the towers and ramparts slowly began to take shape. Theon smiled again, progress had been good and soon enough the Winter Tower and the Seaward Tower would be able to be manned by the end of next month. Looking back at the mountain man, Theon snapped out of his reverie and laid eyes on the Northern Engineer Camp. It had turned into a good sized one, with tents being arranged in an orderly fashion, and bustling with activity.

He and Liddle walked into the largest tent of the camp, where three men were waiting for him. On the left was the Master Builder, Alyn of Winterstone. He’d already overseen several works in the north, most notably the construction of two towers in Winterfell, the new semaphore of White Harbour, completed last week, and the outer walls of Bear Island. The man had experience and Theon had recruited his help in constructing the Moat itself, despite him being part of the Northern Engineers. At the right was the Master Carpenter, Rickard of Highverdon. Most people called him Rickard, but since there were about two hundred Rickards in the camp, he’d insisted on him taking the name of his town of birth. The man was skilled and he’d figured out ways of building bridges, pontoons, stairways and siege towers fast, efficiently and with minimal risk. Finally, to his centre was the second-in-command of the corps, Hallis Snow, a bastard of house Lake, with a nick for organization, command and had very decent swordsmanship.

Two lowborns, a bastard, a mountain man and an exile. He couldn’t wait to see the faces of the lords he’d ass kick into the dirt when they saw who brought down their shitty castles. Theon wiped the grin off his face before addressing the room.

“Right gentlemen, are we ready to go?”

“We’re only waiting the signal, my lord” Hallis said.

“Perfect, then let’s go. Also, Alyn, no cheating, you cannot point out weak points in the ramparts until after the exercise is over.”

Alyn chuckled. “I didn’t plan to, my lord.”

“Perfect, Captain Morgan, Captain Hallis, let’s roll!”

The two men rushed outside the tent, shouting orders as the camp sprung to life, suddenly bustling with activity. Theon, Alyn and Rickard stood as all the soldiers and engineers led by Liddle and Snow stood at attention in front of them in less than three minutes. Theon saluted them, and they all answered in kind. Another thing Theon had taught the men to enforce respect towards their commanders.

Theon took two steps forward and started shouting.

“Men, I have to say I’m proud of you lot. Nothing has been stopping you these past days.” Murmurs of agreement rose through the ranks. “But today is important. These people inside that castle think nothing can assault them, that they are impregnable. You’ve built your towers, your bridges, good. That tower has been refurbished by Master Alyn himself. Prove to them that the Northern Engineers can do anything, stick that Stark banner on top of that tower!”

A few cheers erupted in the ranks as Liddle and Snow started shouting orders, and the machinery was in place. No one was armed with more than wooden swords, and the defenders would not use oil or rocks or arrows. Instead they’d throw hay and water. If you were hit, you were out and had to slide back down. If you were hit by a stick from a bow, you were out as well.

The men were motivated though, as the towers started rolling towards the tower and ramparts around it. Water and hay started pouring from the walls and the advanced stalled. Theon even thought that the Engineers wouldn’t make it. However, as if on cue, he heard shouts coming from the walls. The Engineers had gotten a breakthrough. Theon and his two masters smiled. Soon enough, a second tower had gotten a bridgehead, and a third afterwards. After what seemed like an eternity, a grey banner was struck on the walls of the tower. The castle was taken.

The men cheered and went back to attention in front of Theon. Liddle and Snow were very happy, and all smiles as their boys had completed their mission. Theon once more took to the field and spoke.

“Men, you’ve done it, you’ve proven to those other folks that walls do not stop northmen! You’ve proven that the engineers are valorous and you stuck that banner up there with courage. As a result, there will be double ration of ale tonight!” Cheers erupted among the ranks. “But it is also time we chose a war cry of our own. Houses have words, why not regiments and armies. Today you’ve proven that you can build, and you’ve proven that you can fight, then our war cry can only be “We build, we fight!”. But we also need words to attach to the new banner of our corps, a wolf and a beaver, therefore since you’ve done both difficult and impossible tasks, our words shall be “The difficult we do now, the impossible takes a little longer.”” Sorry Seabees, you won’t be needing these words anyways, so I’ll just borrow them from you.

Cheers erupted among the men with cries of “The North!”, “We build, we fight!” and even “The Squid! The Squid!”.

For the first time in a long while, Theon felt pride as he watched the men go back to their tents chanting “It’s a long way to Winterfell’s Walls”. Not everything had been perfect of course. 278 men had been counted out for the day, and five more had been injured during the exercise, all by falling out of siege towers. Three broken arms, two broken legs and a splinter in the eye were deplored. No deaths, thank god, he thought and he and the commanders retreated to the command tent to plan out the next week’s exercises.

Theon’s mind wandered off. Although he felt a sense of pride and belonging as part of something greater, there was that feeling at the bottom of his heart that he still didn’t belong here. He wanted to go out and explore the world, not stay in this mudpit for the rest of his life. He cursed Robert Baratheon, he wanted to be in Meereen, advising the dragon queen, seeing dragons for the first time, laying eyes on the great pyramids… Fucking hell Robert, can’t you just die already?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part for Theon in six months (story time), he won't appear for a good three chapters from now on. The Jon, Robb and Ned arcs will take precedent, but I'll make it up to our pal in the Meereen arc (as you can see in the tags) ! This is part 2/3 of Chapter VII, the last part with Ned and Robb at the Wall will come this weekend.


	10. Chapter VII, Part 3: Arrivals - Eddard VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Ned arrive at the Wall.

**Chapter VII**

**Part III**

**Eddard**

****

  
The Wall continued to unravel before his eyes. A truly wonderful and terrifying site. Miles upon miles of an unending block of ice. If he hadn’t had memories of it, he’d been like Robb and Tyrion Lannister, staring in awe at the magnificent sight. It was close to mid-day but little sun was shining, instead being replaced by dark grey clouds. Winter is really coming, he thought.

The gate to Castle Black opened as he, Robb, Tyrion and a retinue of about five hundred men entered the fort, accompanied with banners from various houses of the North. He scouted the courtyard as he stepped down from his horse. A man stood out from the crowd, older, with a white beard and short hair, and a raven on top of his right shoulder.

Ned gestured Domeric to bring the horse to the stables, as Ned and the older man stepped up and shook arms.

“Lord Commander Mormont, it’s been a long time.” Ned said

“Aye, it has, Lord Stark. But we’re not here to rememorate old war stories, are we?” the man asked in a serious tone.

“No, unfortunately not.” Ned lowered his eyes at that, before asking “Has my brother returned?”

“He has.”

“And?”

“You might want to hear what he has to say.”

Could you be any more enigmatic? Come the fuck on, Ned thought. It would be so much easier if people could just speak their mind right then and there, but whatever, he’d have to make do.

“How many people can your council room hold?”

“About twenty seated is my guess, Lord Stark.”

“Good.” Ned turned to the lords that had been assembling in the courtyard. “Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, Lord Bolton, Lady Dustin, Lady Mormont, Lord Manderly and Lord Ryswell, with me. Robb, Ser Denys, Mance, you’re coming as well.” He thought for a while before also turning to Tyrion Lannister. “Lord Tyrion, you’re also coming.”

“Why me?” the dwarf said surprised.

“You are a southerner; I believe we need you to understand what is happening here.”

Tyrion nodded, but before he could answer Lord Mormont, the lord commander spoke first.

“I’ll have to prepare the room first. It won’t take long, but in the meantime…” he turned to Mance. “His people have arrived, five thousand led by a woman named Dalla.” Mance smirked. “I believe you might want to talk to them. Oh, and Lord Stark, Maester Aemon wishes to see you as well.”

“Very well, thank you, Lord Commander.” Ned answered

Lord Mormont bowed slightly.

“No, thank you, Lord Stark. I believe without you we wouldn’t know what was coming, and now…well you’ve done more than we could ask for.”

Ned nodded before turning to the lords of the north.

“My lords, take some rest from the journey. I expect those that I’ve called to the meeting with my brother and the lord commander to come in two hours.”

The lords nodded and dispersed through the courtyard. Ned then turned to Robb and Domeric, who had finished with his duties.

“Robb, Domeric, come with me. I believe we have to meet the free folk.”

Mance smiled as Robb and Domeric nodded and followed him. Mance led the way, leading the small group to an area east of the castle gates, where a large number of people had been amassing. Mance suddenly flashed a huge smile, the biggest Ned’s ever seen and began hurrying his pace towards the group of free folk. As he approached, a woman with long blonde hair and a large belly approached and hugged Mance for what seemed like an eternity as Ned and Domeric looked at each other in an awkward silence. Robb on the other hand was captivated by another woman, younger and more beautiful, with long, blonde hair, blue-grey eyes and a blonde braid the colour of gold dropping along her right shoulder.

Ned focused back his attention to Mance and began coughing awkwardly as Mance pulled out from his embrace with the woman.

“Ah, I’m sorry, where are my manners? Lord Stark, this is Dalla, my wife.”

Ned bowed slightly and kissed her hand.

“A pleasure, my lady.”

“No ladies here, Lord Stark.” Dalla said in a composed voice. “We are the free folk, call me Dalla.”

Ned smiled slightly. The free folk were indeed stern and rough, and Mance’s wife was quite a woman. Mance reciprocated Ned’s smile and turned to the woman Robb was looking at.

“And this is my goodsister, Val. She’s very beautiful, but don’t let that distract you, she can kill you twenty different ways before you can even react.”

Val didn’t move, instead her stary gaze being fixed on…Robb?

“Val?” Mance inquired “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my apologies, Mance, I got…distracted.” The woman answered. “A pleasure to meet you Lord Stark.”

“The pleasure is mine, Val.” Ned answered as he flicked his hands in front of Robb, who snapped out of his dreamy state. “This is my son, Robb.”

To his surprise, Robb composed himself very fast as he greeted both, although he turned as red as a tomato when leaning in to kiss Val’s hand. As such, he didn’t notice the smile Val returned him as he did so.

“As promised, your people will be let through to the New Gift.” Ned spoke. “There is much farmland to be cultivated, however housing will need to be made and wells dug. We will give you the materials but you will have to build much of it yourselves, we don’t have an endless supply of builders I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Stark. Us free folk can handle ourselves. We thank you for your help.” Dalla said.

Ned nodded and turned away before being caught up by Mance, who took him to the side.

“Lord Stark, I thank you, but I have one favour to ask of you before we go join the old crow.”

“Ask away.” Ned answered.

“You see my wife Dalla is pregnant, and I don’t know if we have proper…facilities in the Gift for our child in the New Gift. I’d like…” he stammered. “I’d like her to go to Winterfell to give birth.”

“Sure.” Ned answered simply.

Mance smiled.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. And well, I can also send my goodsister there, with the looks she and your son have been exchanging…”

Ned laughed.

“Aye, they haven’t been very discreet, have they? I’m not going to lie, an alliance between the free folk and the North could be sealed by marriage…”

Mance nodded.

“Aye, let’s hope your boy can handle her, though. She’s not a southron woman.”

“I expect not, Mance. But remember, we are direwolves. In close to every sense of the word.” Ned shared a glance with Grey Wind, who was happily circling Robb.

Mance nodded again, and this time left towards Castle Black with a few Stark guards in tow.

Ned turned back to Domeric and Robb and ushered them to follow them back to the fort, both men still having their gazes set on the wildling group.

“Are you going to stop staring for a moment? We have much to do.”

Both Robb and Domeric broke off their gazes and followed Ned and Grey Wind.

“Yes, yes, we’re coming.” Robb said as he hurried along the path, still slightly red on the face.

“Well, good news, Robb. You’re going to learn to know that Val girl better. She’ll be leaving to Winterfell to attend her sister’s birth in three days. You’ll be on the road with the Northern cavalry as well.”

“I…alright. That’s nice, I guess.”

“Nice? Oh, come on Robb, every time I mention her name or her indirectly your face reddens even more.”

Robb blushed, and Domeric laughed.

“Now, come on Domeric, that’s not nice. I saw how you looked at that redhead girl.”

It was Domeric’s turn to blush slightly.

“T…That’s different, Lord Stark. We Boltons have an attraction towards redheads, it’s in our blood.” Domeric attempted to justify himself.

“Well this one seems to have caught your eye in particular, there were ten or twenty red headed girls in that lot but your gaze stayed on her.”

Domeric reddened again as the three men and Grey Wind crossed the gates once more.

“Don’t worry.” Ned said. “She’s not going to Winterfell. She’s good with the bow, we need men and women with her accuracy. She’ll stay with us here.”

Domeric didn’t have time to justify himself as Ned, Robb, Grey Wind and the heir to the Dreadfort were stopped in their tracks by an old and a fat man.

“Ah, Lord Eddard, Lord Robb. If I could have a moment?”

“Of course, Maester Aemon.” Ned answered. “Domeric, Grey Wind, stay here, we won’t be long.”

Ned followed Maester Aemon and the fat man, who Robb recognized as being Samwell Tarly, through a short corridor into a library.

“Ah.” The Old Man sat down. “Finally, I meet you again Lord Stark. And I can meet you, young Robb, although I didn’t expect you to come with this son, but that is no matter.”

Ned looked confused, and eyed Samwell wearily. Maester Aemon instead dismissed him.

“Don’t worry, Samwell won’t say a word. He knows about your son, or should I say, your nephew? Or your friend?”

“Both, I guess. How did you…”

“How did I know? There’s a lot of things I could tell you about, Lord Stark, but we don’t have time. I’ve come to ask something and give you something.”

“Ask away, Maester Aemon.” Ned answered.

“I’d like you to send Samwell here to the Citadel. I know a war is coming, and we need all the help we can get. His talents are wasted here, and being the first man to kill a wight in thousands of years, he can sway the maesters to our side. I’m afraid our records aren’t extensive here, and Samwell can help with that my scouring the Citadel’s records. I’ve asked Maester Marwyn at the Citadel to take him under his wing, he and I keep a small correspondence.”

“It will be done; Samwell will be with my son’s party to Winterfell. I’ll make arrangements for him to go to Oldtown from there.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” Maester Aemon smiled “And I have a gift for you. Well, not for you, for your…nephew, but since he isn’t here…Samwell, please pass me the gift.”

Samwell nodded and handed him a white cloth, inside of which Maester Aemon revealed a sword, complete with the pommel of a silver dragon.

“Dark Sister…” Robb gasped.

“You are correct, young Stark.” The Maester said. “I intended for it to be passed on from one Targaryen to another. Unfortunately, my nephew is on the other side of the world now, and I doubt I’ll ever meet him. In any case, it’s yours, young wolf, provided you take it to my great-great-great nephew when you see him.”

“I…I will, thank you, Maester.” Robb seemed amazed at the sword, as Ned just shrugged. Maester Aemon then stood up.

“But let’s not keep the others waiting. I believe we are expected.”

“That we are.” Ned answered, as he and his now party of five hurried down the hall and into the council room, where the lords of the north, the lord commander and several night’s watchmen were waiting.

Ned however headed straight towards his younger brother Benjen, who was waiting on one side of the table, as the others took their places.

“How are you?” Ned asked as he embraced Benjen.

“Could be better, but I’m alive, that’s what counts.”

“Aye, but let’s keep our little family reunion for later, I believe you have more pressing matters at hand.”

Benjen nodded and Ned gained his seat between Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon, while Benjen stood near them. After a small silence, Lord Mormont spoke.

“Thank you for coming, my lords. I know you must be tired, so I’ll get straight to the point. Lord Stark is right, the Others have returned.”

A murmur escaped the room.

“Indeed.” Lord Mormont continued. “I didn’t believe it myself until, as Ser Denys told you, we recovered bodies from a ranging north a few moons ago. That night those bodies woke up, I swear it, and tried to attack me. Thankfully, brother Samwell stopped them.”

A few cheers from the nights watchmen were heard as they screamed “Sam the Slayer! Sam the Slayer!”. Samwell stood smiling but slightly red faced.

“How?” Lord Manderly asked.

“Dragonglass.” Benjen Stark replied as he began moving towards the table with a small box. “Dragonglass can kill them. Fire hurts them, and Valyrian Steel can kill them as well. Regular steel doesn’t work against them unless you crush their skulls entirely.” Benjen stopped for a moment. “Lord Commander Mormont sent us on a mission with the free folk beyond the wall to confirm sightings of an isolated group. Most of us didn’t believe it, but again, most of us never came back…” Benjen stopped for a moment. “We couldn’t capture any of them, but we did get this.”

Benjen opened the box slowly, and put its contents out of the box. A skeleton of a hand dropped on the table. The lords fixed it attentively, before Lady Dustin finally broke the silence and smirked.

“And what exactly is th…”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence as the rest of the attendance gasped in shock as the hand started to move along the table, trying to grab for Lady Dustin. Benjen stopped the hand dead in its tracks with a swift movement of a dragonglass dagger, bringing the hand to rest. The rest of the lords eyed Lady Dustin, who was now white as a sheet, and brought their attention back to Benjen.

“As I said, dragonglass kills them.” The first ranger said in an icy tone. “But if you need more proof, you’ll have to come with me. We’ve located a group of wights, a day or two north of Castle Black, close to Craster’s Keep. They are numerous, a small party isn’t an option this time to try and capture a few. So, are you lords going to follow me and see for yourselves what awaits us, or will you cower and hide like southroners?”

Ned Stark stood up and eyed every one of the lords, before turning to Benjen.

“I don’t even think that is a question. We are northmen, we do not run from what awaits before us. I expect my bannermen to be ready, we lead a foray north in two days, my lords. Better pack warm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things coming at once. I wanted to split this one into several parts but saw no use, they would have made for quite short chapters, maybe the transitions are quite brutal though I'll admit. Next update we take off for Chapter 8, and Robb heading back to Winterfell for Part 1/3 (warning: maybe a lot of cringe, we're heading into semi-romantic territory with Robb/Val.)


	11. Chapter VIII, Part 1: And so it begins - Robb V

**Chapter VIII**

**Part I**

**Robb V**

Robb took a few deep breaths. It had been a day since they’d left Castle Black, and still he had trouble erasing the thought of leaving Ned alone up there. The thought of Ned thinking he could make an alliance with the free folk by marrying him to Val alone made him shiver. Robb knew this would mean little to most of the free folk, at best it could be of symbolic value, but not much else.

Not that he wasn’t attracted to the idea. The wildling princess was stunningly beautiful, and he’d had a hard time not fixating her during the trip back to Winterfell. She’d caught him glancing a couple times and he’d turned away immediately. She probably thinks I’m creepy as hell now.

He looked over at the horizon and saw the column of heavy horse making its way to Winterfell. Ned had left him with a few thousand extra men due to increased raiding in the Riverlands, and was afraid Balon Greyjoy would get any funny ideas. That and the fact that radio silence from Tywin apart from him recalling the debt to the crown was worrisome. He needed more men south and more men north, an annoying situation logistics-wise.

He sighed again as the sun set on the horizon. That meant a camp had to be drawn and he’d have to spend time with both Dalla and Val over dinner, and the thought of it alone was scaring him. He didn’t want to humiliate himself more than he already had. Well, let’s hope they don’t mention it, but being wildlings…of course they will you idiot.

Robb headed towards Dalla’s horse and helped her down, although he was surprised the wildling woman, despite being pregnant, could manage very well on her own. She did thank him though, and that surprised him, but he was distracted by another voice calling for him.

“And are you going to help me off my horse, Lord Robb?”

He turned around and saw Val still standing on her horse, fixing him intently.

“Ah, my apologies…Val.” He stammered. “I thought you were able to do so on your own.”

“Oh, but I am.” She answered as she leapt off her northern steed. “But I just wanted to feel your touch again, young wolf.”

Robb blushed slightly and accompanied her to the tent where Dalla was waiting. He kept his head away most of the time, not noticing Val grinning from ear to ear during the whole walk.

The rest of the night was quite uneventful, Dalla and Val told stories about beyond-the-wall, while Robb talked about the North and the Seven Kingdoms, their kings, customs and lords. Dalla excused herself soon enough, probably tired due to the journey, which left Robb and Val alone next to the campfire, the laughs of the cavalrymen whimpering down as night started setting in. It was Val who finally broke the silence.

“Do I scare you that much that you refuse to talk to me when my sister isn’t here?”

Robb froze an instant, then regained his composure.

“Who wouldn’t be intimidated by you, Val?”

The wildling woman chuckled.

“A great many people. A great many people learned the hard way.”

“I expect. How many daggers do you carry around?”

“Enough to keep myself safe.”

“I’d expect only one is enough for a woman like you.”

Val raised her eyebrows.

“Indeed. The rest is…insurance.” She answered “But you aren’t like the other men here, or those southrons, or the crows, how come you actually fear me, a helpless woman?”

“I’ve learnt women can be very dangerous if underestimated.”

Val laughed.

“Aye, that is true. Especially in the free folk. We have a tribe up in the Haunted Forest where only the women fight, the men are good for nothing else than chopping wood and taking care of the babies while the women hunt, fight and defend their homes.”

He let out a small chuckle.

“Sounds like something my sister would love to do.”

“You have a sister?” Val asked, surprised. "Why isn't she here?"

“Two. One is called Sansa, she’s…about what you’d expect from a southern lady, expecting a golden prince to marry. But my youngest sister, Arya, she loves liberty, she doesn’t like being a lady. She likes to train with her sword and her bow, to learn how to ride and hunt, she’s like my deceased aunt, Lyanna, in many ways.”

“I look forward to meeting her.” Val answered before suddenly backtracking. “Your sister, I mean, not your aunt. I’m sorry if you were offended.”

He shook his head.

“No, it’s quite alright. I never knew my aunt. She died the same year I was born. As to my sister, she’s gone with my brother to Dorne.”

“Dorne, where’s Dorne?”

“It’s the kingdom that is the most to the south of Westeros. It is ten thousand leagues away, and snow doesn’t fall there. It is covered by deserts and not a lot of water falls there.”

“A very unhospitable place, why send your sister there? I knew if Mance sent my sister to the other side of the Frostfangs I’d have told him to go put his head up Tormund’s ass beforehand.”

“Because, even in the North, ladies aren’t really supposed to do that. Bar the Mormonts I guess. Dorne is much more…loose with how they treat women. My father thought sending her there would turn her into a warrior lady, or at best try and stop her rebellious phase.”

“Not the best idea.”

“No, but again, I can’t really counter my father’s decisions, I’m not the Lord of Winterfell.”

Val nodded, but seemed confused.

“Tell me, how does one man steal a woman in the North?”

“Ah, we do not steal wives in the North.” Robb answered.

“No? Then how do you do it here?”

“Well when two people love each other or are set to be married, they are sent before a weirwood tree where they are married. They have to exchange vows and promise to be lawful and truthful to one another in front of the Old Gods. The southerners and Manderlys use septons and say vows in a sept, but that is a story for another time.”

Val still seemed confused.

“So, you have to be married to just lay with one another? You do not steal away women like us in the north?”

“Laying with another woman is different, you just do it, but laying with a woman before marriage is frowned upon, especially when a woman lays with a man. A load of bullshit if you ask me.”

“Why?”

“Because women can do as they damn well please. A man lays with a woman before marriage? No one gives a shit. A woman lays with a man? She’s dishonoured. I don’t give two shits about who a woman lays with before marriage, as long as she doesn’t do it after.”

“And have you laid with a woman, Lord Robb?”

Robb blushed heavily. Not these type of questions, please. Ned would have laughed, Theon would be confident and Jon would have been his annoying flirteous self, but Robb was absolutely trash at these kinds of conversations.

“No?” Val asked, surprised.

“No.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Robb Stark.”

“You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve heard this. Don’t be ashamed of it, and yet, people laugh at you behind your back at any opportunity. They laugh at your face and then tell you there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Val nodded.

“I can understand that. Let me tell you a story. There was a man called Jarl in my clan. He was mocked by everyone in the clan because he hadn’t laid with a woman by the time he was nine-and-ten. So, I stole him to make him a man, but still he refused to lay with me, despite me going for him. I asked why, and he explained he didn’t want to lay with any woman unless she returned his love. I stole him, so I stayed with him, got to know him and I tried to gain this supposed love, but I never found it, didn’t understand it. I wanted to mock him as did the others, and in the end, I just abandoned the thought of being with him. One day, he volunteered to go scout the wights with First Ranger Stark, and never came back. That is when I understood I lost a person who I cared for. Maybe he stole me that day.”

“I’m sorry.” Robb answered. “For your loss.”

“Don’t be. I doubt I could ever have cared if he didn’t die that day. I would have cast him aside and wished him good fortune and that would have been the end of it. My point is, there are many reasons a man doesn’t lay with a woman, but that doesn’t make them any less brave or dangerous than any other man.”

“I see." Robb said, trying to make sense of the mumbo-jumbo Val had just said. "I’m flattered you think that of me, Val.”

Val smiled slightly.

“And you, why haven’t you met a woman yet?”

Robb’s small smile extinguished itself, the memories coming back to bite him. _Book-lover, nerd, you have no balls, are you a man or a woman_. The insults overwhelmed his mind, until he was only capable of muttering.

“Women were never interested with me.”

Then Robb watched Val do something unexpected, she laughed, and laughed, before finally calming down and approaching Robb until her eyes stared directly into his.

“And on a more serious note, Robb Stark, what is the real reason?”

That was the real reason. But she wasn’t entirely wrong, Robb was the heir to Winterfell, probably had his share of...oh whatever, time to make up a lie.

“I’m very serious. When I was young, I was shy, and women not named my sisters wouldn’t approach me, and when I was older…well I was still shy, but because I did not have northern looks, women didn’t look at me like they looked at Robb Stark. They looked at me because I was the heir to Winterfell, damn the rest.”

“So, your northern ladies don’t like red hair, I find that hard to believe, young wolf.” Val scoffed, before whispering in his ear “Redheads are kissed by fire, they have fire in their veins, fire in their hearts and fire in their beds, young wolf. Us free folk do not repulse red hair, rather, we embrace it.”

Robb smiled and turned to Val.

“Very poetic, I wish…”

But he was caught off by Val, who put his hands on the back of his neck, and pressed her lips towards his. Robb felt a jolt, but returned the kiss, her tongue entering his mouth as Robb tried to fight for control with a force, he never knew he had. Finally, Val broke the kiss after what seemed like an eternity, pushing her braid on her back, and fixing Robb with a devilish grin.

“As I said, kissed by fire, and as ravenous as a wolf, you sell yourself short, Robb Stark. Consider yourself stolen.”

And this time, Robb leant in to kiss her, her mouth opening for him, and suddenly all felt very right in the world as Robb closed his eyes and gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is your cringey moment. I hope it was bearable enough but I tried to stay true to both Val and the SI's nature and I still hope you liked the chapter. Expect slightly less cringe going between those two next chapter.
> 
> This is Part 1/3 of Chapter VIII, next we head back to Sunspear and Jon and Arya meet Doran.


	12. Chapter VIII, Part 2: And so it begins - Jon VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Jon meet Doran. AriJon continues.

**Chapter VIII**

**Part II**

**Jon VI**

I tried to close my eyes once more, even as it had been past dawn for a long while, I still felt tired from yesterday’s journey, but the heat, the fucking heat, would just not let me rest. I grabbed the pillow and set it above my head, trying to think about something else and drift back to sleep. Yesterday’s conversation with Arianne came to mind.

_“So, is it true you northerners eat the flesh of your enemies and sacrifice them to your gods? Do you flay them alive? Do you send the elderly and the weak to the army to die during the harshest winter? Do you steal your wives and command armies of wild animals?” She had answered as she led hi through the corridors of Sunspear Castle._

_“That depends princess.” I had answered. “Do you poison your enemies before burying them in the sands of your endless deserts? Do your women seduce foreigners before slitting their throats in bed? Do your men coat their blades with poison to make sure your enemies do not get quick deaths?”_

_She had laughed. “Only half-true then?”_

_“Only half-true.” I answered. “I doubt anyone eats the flesh of our enemies, bar the Thenns. Human sacrifice has been gone for thousands of years, and so has the tradition of sending the elderly and weak to die in the forests in winter. The Boltons might still know how to flay but its use is prohibited, and only the free folk steal their wives – and husbands – “As for the part of commanding wild animals, I preferred to leave that last bit unanswered._

_“Your direwolf.” She asked. “Is he…”_

_“My pet no? My protector? Yes, we protect each other in a way. The direwolf is the sigil of our house, they are bound to us and us to them.”_

_She eyed Ghost intently. The white direwolf had shed some fur but was no less intimidating, having reached the size of a pig._

_“He won’t hurt you. Don’t worry. As long as you don’t try to hurt me.”_

_“Oh, Jon Stark, I would never.” She’d answered with a sly smile. “Your chambers are here, if you need anything, my chambers are to the left, although I’d ask you knock first.”_

_I nodded._

_“One more thing, Jon Stark. You will meet my father tomorrow, but what do you say of a game of cyvasse tomorrow afternoon? No doubt you’ll want to escape the worst of the heat, and I’ll have refreshments ready.”_

_“Only if you answer me something, princess. I noticed my room is not very close to that of my sister’s, who I’m supposed to protect. Why is that?”_

_“Oh, that I do not know.” She shrugged. “My father sent instructions for each of your rooms, you’ll have to take it up with him. Why though? Do you not enjoy my company?” she grinned._

_Touché._

_“No not at all, it’s just…never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”_

_“Nonsense, call me Arianne, all my friends do.” She winked at me as she left._

_“Very well, good night, Arianne.”_

Arianne. Fucking hell, I didn’t need the added bonus of having to deal with her on a daily basis. Hopefully she’ll just grow bored of me once I don’t show any particular interest in going on board with whatever scheme she has ready for me, I thought as I turned again, this time the light blinding me as I lifted the pillow.

However, there wasn’t only the light that was bothering him. There was a face. I jolted slightly, trying to recognize who was staring at me like this from above, before recognizing the olive features. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Arianne? What are you doing here? And how did you get past…”

“Ghost? I let her in, brother.”

Another voice made itself known at the door. I scratched my eyes, and rustled my hair, now basically soaking wet from the sweat.

“Arya?”

“Of course, it’s me, silly. We’re supposed to leave in an hour, you might want to get ready, Edric is already up.” She turned to Arianne. “Thank you, princess, I’ll see you in the courtyard.”

Arianne nodded and smiled to Arya, who hurried down the corridor with Nymeria. I turned back to Ghost, his red eyes staring at me intently as he sat back down in his corner.

“Sorry for the rude intrusion, your sister was worried.” Arianne broke the silence.

“I was tired from the journey. Having an actual bed for the first time in three moons does that to you.”

“I can imagine, just…get something to wipe yourself with, you are sweating profusely.”

“I don’t get how you can get accustomed to this heat.”

“I think not lying in bed with long sleeves and long pants does help.”

“Any better alternatives then?”

“You can sleep naked, like me.”

I froze in shock for a second as the princess’ face illuminated itself and her grin widened.

“I’ll take that advice into consideration, thank you.” I answered. “If you could leave me so I can…”

“Of course, of course, Jon.” She acted as if she was hurrying out but I could tell she was very much giggling. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember though, you promised me that cyvasse game this afternoon after you meet my father.” And with that she closed the door.

Oh, I remember all too well, hopefully I’ll have the way to the Water Gardens to help me get an excuse not to go, I thought as I dressed up.

Thankfully, the rest of the morning was uneventful, bar the fact Arya looked cheerful for once. Meeting Oberyn was of course a pain, but I mean, the guy never smiled so there was that. Shame, I really liked his character in the books and show, god that last part left a sour taste in my mouth noticing what they’d done to Dorne in the show, but whatever.

Prince Oberyn rode on, leading the way to the Water Gardens, with a few guards trailing him, and Edric, Arya and I in the centre.

“Feeling different today Arya?” I questioned her as she rode on with a smile on her face.

“I…kind of like it here.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you know, bar the fact we’re ten thousand leagues from the North. No septas to teach you useless things, no Sansa to brag about her sowing, no mother to tell me to return to my lessons. Only…freedom.”

“You know you will have to resume your lessons, right?”

“Oh, yes, I know.” Her smile left her for a minute. “But Prince Oberyn said that if I completed my lessons without whining, I would get to spar with him and his daughters. Do you know they can fight?”

I felt my stomach tighten. I swear to god Oberyn if you are trying to turn Arya into a sand snake, I’ll give you a war you won’t believe. Red viper or not.

“I’m aware. But what of your dance master?” I answered, trying to steer her clear of that path.

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows about it and he’ll watch me to tell me how to get better.”

Ah well, shit. Ned what the fuck have you done.

“How are you going on with the prince?” I tried, trying to steer the conversation away once more.

“Oh, really well actually. He’s not an annoying southerner, or one of the princes Sansa would like. He leaves me alone and is actually quite funny. And he doesn’t call me my lady or my love or whatever southerners say. Sansa would hate him.” Arya said that last part with a giggle.

I smiled. Well hopefully everything wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Finally, the Water Gardens came into view. A small oasis in the middle of deserts and dunes, with magnificent trees, palms and flowers growing amidst beautiful pools and fountains. I was left in admiration as to how such a large amount of water could be transported towards an area so deep into the deserts, but I guess money can work miracles.

We were led into a small garden, with four beautifully ornated pools on each side, with a series of steps at the back leading to a semi-old man waiting in a chair.

So, this is _el Famoso_ Doran Martell. Well let’s see how this one goes.

Oberyn was the first to step up, bowing to his brother and exchanging pleasantries. Doran smiled and then turned to us, then our direwolves, who immediately ran into a pool to cool off from the heat, then back to us.

“Lord Jon, Lady Arya. I welcome you to the Water Gardens. I’m sorry I couldn’t welcome you to Sunspear myself, but as you can see, I’m rather undisposed at the moment.”

“We thank you for your hospitality, my Prince.” I answered as Arya repressed her classic, _I’m not a lady_ line. Good show of restraint this time around.

“Nonsense, it is the least I could do for a fellow lord paramount, and my future gooddaughter.”

Arya slightly winced but didn’t say a word as Prince Doran continued.

“But where are my manners? You must be thirsty after a journey under the sun like this, however close to Sunspear we may be. Areo, would you please be so kind to send a servant to bring us refreshments?” The large man nodded and barked off some orders, as we were motioned to sit down.

“Fantastic beasts you have here, I’m surprised they can survive this far.” Doran continued

“Nymeria has shed a lot of fur. I think Ghost might also have, they still need to stay in the shade or in water to cool off.” Arya replied.

Doran nodded; his face still stern. “Arya, is that it? My brother told me you didn’t like the Lady title.”

“Aye.” Was Arya’s short answer. “I’m no lady.”

“But you are to be a future princess of Dorne. Your father still sent you here to be educated, unfortunately, I personally won’t be able to oversee it, but my brother will, I hope it is alright with you, my dear.”

“Prince Oberyn is good company, but he gets distracted with his wife a lot.” Arya shrugged. “Hopefully his daughters will be better company.”

Oberyn looked shocked while I repressed a laugh. Doran just smiled.

“My brother doesn’t have a wife, it is his paramour, and yes, his public displays of affection are quite…explicit. You have quite a sharp tongue, and a blade, I’ve heard.”

“I’m only learning, my prince.” Arya answered. “But my Needle can challenge Edric already.”

“No doubt my nieces can give you a better fight than your brother’s squire, she-wolf. Time till tell.” Doran turned abruptly to me then. “Speaking of your brother. How come you are here, Lord Jon?”

“I was sent here to protect my sister, my prince.”

“Surely Lord Stark only needed to send a few of his guards, why send you?”

“He needed someone skilled with a blade, that he can trust to protect my sister.”

“Really?” Doran looked me up and down before continuing. “I believe he also sent you here so you could see where you were born, is that correct?”

“Yes, my prince. I was born in Dorne.”

“So, does that make you a Sand, then?”

“It makes him a Stark!” Arya nearly shouted as she stood up. “He’s my brother, the king legitimized him and I’m not going to have him being mistreated because of his name again!”

Even Oberyn stood in shock as Arya stood up defiantly.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, this is not what I meant. I mean, you were born a Sand, so why did your father not name you that when you came north?”

“Imagine all the mistreatment I got being a bastard.” I said bluntly. “Now imagine a Dornish bastard…no offence my princes.”

Oberyn lowered his head. Doran nodded.

“Your father was an honourable man, aye. He wouldn’t have imposed that much suffering on his son.” Doran eyed me intently, then turning back to Oberyn.

The conversation steered away from Arya and I then, going to the state of the North, Robert’s visit to Winterfell and the arrestation of the Lannister twins. Oberyn and Doran had shared a smile at the details.

But it was getting past mid-day, and if we wanted to come back to Sunspear not completely cooked, we needed to go. Prince Doran bid us farewell, but before we could leave, I did ask him the question I had on the back of my head since this morning.

“Prince Doran, may I ask, why did you separate me so much from my sister Arya at Sunspear? I can’t really be the most effective protector if I’m three full minutes away from her chambers.”

“Ah, I’m sorry for that, the layout of the castle is complicated. I originally got you the room your squire was in, just under Lady Arya’s room but she’s also flanked by two of your guards and Lord Manderly’s chambers. So, I thought since no one had seen a Stark in Sunspear in years, that you’d be able to teach my daughter about the realm. She’s to be princess of Dorne one day, but she’s too focused on Dorne itself, I’d like her to learn about the ways of other kingdoms, and that includes the North.”

Bullshit.

“So, you’re saying you put me away from my sister so I can teach your daughter about the North?”

“Yes. Lord Jon, you have my word that no harm will come to the future princess, we don’t hurt little girls in Dorne.”

Allow me to doubt that.

“I need you to teach my daughter about the other realms, not much is known here about the North, and what better person than a Stark to do so. After all, my brother will teach your sister about Dorne as well.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I think you’re lying to me about the real reason?”

“We all keep our secrets, Jon Stark, even the most honourable men have them.” Doran answered. “The reason I gave you is the real one, I can assure you.”

Assure, but not promise. Smart.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Doran.” I bowed as I left.

“Safe travels, Lord Stark. And congratulations on your legitimization.”

I nodded and trotted out of the palace, Ghost in tow. The direwolf was now soaking wet from resting in the Garden’s pools, but it wouldn’t take long for him to dry under the dornish sun.

I pressed ahead, wanting to get back to Sunspear before I started cooking from the inside out and finishing like bacon on a sandwich. Prince Oberyn caught up and rode next to me.

“Had enough of the heat?” he asked.

“Aye, I’m afraid I might burn before we get to Sunspear.”

Oberyn chuckled. “Listen, Stark. I’m sorry for my behaviour yesterday, I…I shouldn’t have been like that, it wasn’t proper from me to insult you like this.”

“You need not worry; I haven’t held it against you.”

He nodded.

“I’ve got nothing against your father, Jon. I…I just need someone to blame, and when I got wind of how two Starks were coming here…”

“You pushed out some of your anger.”

“Aye, and it wasn’t proper of me. I blame the Mountain, I blame that son of a whore Lorch, I blame Tywin Lannister and above all I hate the king, but never should I have blamed your father. He tried to get justice, and in the end, although he failed to do so, he nearly risked a war with his friend for children he didn’t even know. Your father was an honourable man, Jon. I’m sorry for what I said, I was rash, impulsive.”

Jesus Christ Oberyn, you have really no idea how mad you’d be at me if you knew who my real father was. Actually, I’d like to not tread that road at any point.

“I said it’s alright Prince Oberyn, don’t overwhelm yourself in excuses.”

Oberyn nodded.

“Oh, and my niece also said to remind you that you owe her a game of cyvasse with her this afternoon.”

“Ah yes, I hoped to make up an excuse to not attend.”

Oberyn looked surprised.

“You’re the first one to try and make excuses to get away from my niece.”

I shrugged.

“I can arrange for an excuse; you can come play cyvasse with me if you’re interested.”

Oh, fuck off.

“I think I’ll stick with Arianne.”

It was Oberyn’s turn to shrug. “Your loss.”

Arianne and Oberyn didn’t lie, in the afternoon, the sun really hit like a motherf**ker. Sparring with Edric was out of the question, and so was any form of exercise. Everything had to be done inside, and reluctantly, I went to Arianne’s room. A promise is a promise.

Two knocks were enough, and the princess appeared with a smile on her face.

“Ah, Jon. I’m pleased you could make it.”

“So am I, but I’m afraid this might be a short encounter, I’m afraid I haven’t played cyvasse ever, so this will be a quick one.”

And indeed, it was. Of course, the game was very similar to chess, but specific pieces could only take specific other pieces, and catching on was difficult. I got slammed three games to none before Arianne finally set the pieces aside.

“You’re learning, that’s good.” She said with a smile.

“I doubt I improved a lot. I got thrashed every game.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Improvement is improvement. But I do hope you’re better at other things than cyvasse?”

“What other things?”

“Things like this.”

I didn’t have a split second to think, as the princess already had her lips on mine. I was frozen but not shocked, I had to expect it, but so soon? Almost mechanically, my mouth allowed her tongue in, and god dammit, now I knew why so many had fallen for her. Her tongue tasted like honey as she slowly wrapped it around my own.

God dammit what are you doing, you idiot, step away.

But I can’t, her tongue is too enticing, the taste of her lips is like a drug. I need more, I want more. She starts to take off her top. No, I cannot, I won’t fall for it.

But damn it, her taste. I can now see why Arys Oakheart broke his vows, why Daemon Sand fell head over heels, why so many had gone to great lengths in her schemes, but I won’t. I cannot let her win.

With a movement that took all my remaining strength, I pulled away from her, as she had a confused look on her face.

I smiled.

“If you think you can have me just like that, princess, you are wrong.”

She raised her eyebrows in confusion, her dress already half flying into the wind.

“How many men have submitted at there mere sight of you? How many have you entranced with your lips? You must be used to having it easy, but I won’t let it be that way.”

The princess smirked. “Good, Jon. I like a challenge. I bet you won’t last a week before you come back to my bed.”

“A challenge it is, I’ll see you tomorrow for another game of cyvasse?” I replied with a smile.

Keep composure, you’re doing great. Only a few more seconds.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon Stark.”

Phew, I thought as I closed the door. I expected it to happen, but not that fast, and not that…intense. I’d think it was easy to deny her, but man, she was…bewitching. If I didn’t know better, I’d have fallen right then and there into her arms. But this was Martell country, and I needed to tread carefully.

But, as I rested on my bed, Ghost taking a nap in the corner of the room, I also had to think. The conversation with Doran had left me with some unanswered questions. Why the focus on being a Sand? Should that not matter?

_We all keep our secrets. Even the most honourable men. You were born a Sand, were you not? The reason I have you is the real one._

God damn it, why did it sound so familiar…Wait. Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, fuck no. Doran you absolute son of a b… Right, you want to play it like this, let’s play it like this. If I’m a contingency as much as everyone else in your stupid plan, let it be, and oh it’s going to work. But I damn well hope I can steer it clear of your own objectives. Right Doran, you want to play? Then let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter once again, but a lot to say here. Idk how long the Beyond the wall chapter will be but it should be about this long as well if I don't cut anything out, we'll see. Toned down Oberyn by the same occasion.


	13. Chapter VIII, Part 3: And so it begins, Eddard VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddard goes beyond the Wall and gets a little more than he bargained for

**Chapter VIII**

**Part III**

**Eddard VII**

Ned shuddered. It was cold, very cold. Not actually, it wasn’t cold. Ned had grown up in the Swiss mountains, that was cold. Winterfell was cold, Castle Black was cold. Here it was freezing. Ned could scarcely believe how people could even live here as he took a quick look around him eyeing several wildlings accompanying the group. They were better equipped than him, with a lot of animal skins on their backs, and all looking quite jovial. None looked as jovial as Tormund Giantsbane though, the white bearded mountain was always cheery and cracking up jokes with Benjen, his supposed brother. Benjen didn’t mind the cold though, but his bannermen sure did.

Roose Bolton, that traitor cunt was the worst of all. He was shivering all the time despite having more than five layers of shadowcat skins on top of him, and barely uttered anything comprehensible since his teeth were gnashing against each other all the time. At least his son handled it better, or well, as good as his other bannermen. He eyed Lord Karstark who had the same look in his eyes as Lord Ryswell and Lord Umber, the eyes of a man who was wondering what the hell he had done to end up here. Ned knew he was risking a mutiny at this rate, and wanted to go back to the Wall as soon as possible. But he had to press on, for the fate of the world could very well hinge on this expedition, and he trusted Benjen Stark enough to lead it to fruition.

The expedition wouldn’t yield anything for tonight though. They had been marching since dawn with about seven hundred men, and were now half a day from where the wights were last sighted. Night was coming in, and as such Benjen Stark ordered a halt and fires to be lit. Good, some heat would be most welcome.

Ned approached Benjen as they set up the campfire. Ned had barely talked to him since he arrived at Castle Black, and was surprised that Benjen hadn’t tried to approach him either. This had left him uneasy, and wondered whether or not he had forgotten something important from the books Robb had told him about, or whether Robb hadn’t mentioned a falling out between the two brothers.

“Benjen” he called out as the fire was lit and both Stark brothers sat down.

“Ned.” Benjen answered briefly.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk at Castle Black; it has been a quite busy couple of days.”

“I expect. The Wall has been whispering from the Shadow Tower to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea of how Ned Stark has summoned the banners to the North, made a tentative peace with the wildlings and organized a number of rangings north.”

“You don’t approve?” Ned asked, surprised.

“It’s not that I don’t approve, it’s that I fail to understand how my brother, the Lord of Winterfell, suddenly made a heel-faced turn to believe in the presence of Others when there was not even a remote sign of their presence south of the wall, and how he made peace with the wildlings despite centuries of enmity between both the North and the clans.” Benjen stared him dead in the eyes.

“I doubt you’d believe me if I gave you the real reason.”

Benjen laughed. “I doubt I’d believed you as well, until the Three-Eyed Crow showed me.”

“He showed you?” asked Ned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Not many people know of the Three-Eyed Crow. But during a ranging, five moons ago, I met Coldhands, the protector of the Haunted Forest. You know of him?”

Ned nodded. “Aye, he rides an elk and is dressed in the robes of the Night’s Watch. His hands are the only features of his body that you can see, and they are black as death, cold as ice and it is said he wields the magic of the others.”

Benjen shook his head. “All true, except that last part. Coldhands is the protector of the Children. He was a brother of the watch once, but not anymore. His watch has ended a long time ago, and now he protects the children of the haunted forest from the evils of the world.”

“The Others?”

“Mainly, yes. The Others know they cannot turn the children into wights, so they seek to exterminate them root and stem, despite them being their creators.”

“The children created the Others?”

“Not exactly, they shared magic with the Others. The Others are a people that lived in the lands of Always Winter, just like our people live in the North. However, they used the magic of the children, and that magic corrupted them. Now they are beings more ice than man, and they seek to annihilate everything and bring an icy doom to the world, where they’ll rule as only masters. So, the children by sharing their magic with them, think they are responsible for their creation.”

Ned nodded.

“How do you know all this?”

“Coldhands told me. He said because we were of the same blood, I had a right to know. The same happened when I went on that ranging and met him. He told me that he had one more mission before being put to rest, and that was to escort Brandon the Broken Wolf to the Three-Eyed Crow. And it was then that he told me that you, Ned, was dead.”

“Dead, I’m alive thank you very much.”

“No, that the old Ned was dead.”

Ned gulped.

“So, you know?”

“I do. Now tell me, Ned, who are you really?”

Ned gulped but stood firm.

“It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter, we are here. I didn’t ask for it, Ned Stark didn’t ask for it. I was sent here for a reason, and that reason is to save the realm from the perils that come from the north.”

“A mission the old Ned couldn’t accomplish.”

“It’s hard to accomplish anything when your head is sitting on a spike in King’s Landing.”

Benjen froze for a moment, but to his credit, didn’t show any emotions.

“So, you changed it?”

“I did. Told no to Robert, went North, and now I’m trying to stop the Others from coming. And that’s why I need you. Because if I don’t find anything here, it will all have been for nothing. I need the northerners to see a dead man walking and see what we are facing.”

Benjen nodded.

“Don’t worry, we will find them. I saw them with my own eyes, right beyond that mountain pass.” He pointed to a snowy peak in the distance, illuminated by the fires of the camp. “I know what is coming. Let us face it, if not as brothers…” Benjen trailed off. “Then as allies.”

“Aye.” Ned answered. “If it is any consolation, Ned isn’t completely dead. He speaks to me regularly in my dreams, and sometimes speaks through me. I don’t completely control this body yet.”

“What does he say?”

Ned lowered his eyes.

“Mostly criticism, but he saw what the future held for him, his family. He talks to me like I’m his psychologist or something.”

“His what?”

“Someone he can talk to make him feel better, it’s complicated. But he just won’t let go off the fact that I sent Jon and Arya south.”

Benjen shook his head.

“I assume the boy knows of his parentage?”

“He does. Now it’s out of my hands, unfortunately.”

Benjen nodded grimly before being interrupted by several men. Ned recognized the first man, with his white beard and his stern look, the white sun on his vest giving his allegiance away. Next to him was a red-headed man, with a smaller beard and a stallion on his vest, followed by two lords he didn’t recognize, and most surprising of all, the Lannister heir with his hound, while he also recognized Ser Jaime, keeping his distances with the two, and shadowed closely by a man with long, grey hair missing four fingers on his right hand.

“Sorry to interrupt your family gathering, Lord Stark.” Rickard Karstark said. “We expected to be able to share your fire, it seems we can’t start one” he shared a stern look at Lord Ryswell.

“Don’t look at me like that Rickard, it was the wood that was bad.”

“Come now, my lords.” Ned said. “The fire is big enough for everyone here.”

The lords nodded in thanks, with Rickard Karstark sitting opposite him, while Rodrik Ryswell sat next to Benjen. The two other lords, which he recognized as the GreatJon Umber and Helman Tallhart, sat to his left. Tyrion Lannister sat next to them with the hound, while his brother Jaime and the Halfhand sat opposite them, as he noticed Tyrion giving his brother the stink eye. What had happened at Winterfell? They’d barely talked since their departure. Ned was taken out of his thoughts by Rodrik Ryswell, who turned to Benjen.

“So, first ranger, tell me why we have to bring the kingslayer along?”

Benjen eyed Jaime for a while before turning back to Ryswell.

“Because he needs to know what he’ll be facing.”

“You aren’t scared he’ll run away? He’s nothing more than an oathbreaker.” Lord Umber laughed.

“You fools know nothing.” Jaime let out, eyeing the Greatjon with a cold stare with his only remaining eye.

“Humor me, why’d you do it, kinglsayer, hmm?” said the Greatjon, visibly unimpressed. “Why did you kill your king and then fuck your sister, the wife of the next king?”

“I killed a king to save a city.” Jaime scowled.

Everyone went silent then.

“Go on.” Ned said, visibly unsurprised.

“When the sack was under way, the king ordered the pyromancer Rossart, his hand to set alight all the wildfire caches he had disposed across the city. When Rossart went on to execute his king’s orders, I drew a sword and killed him. Knowing he would just call on more pyromancers, I had to kill the king to stop him from destroying the city. Do you know what his last words were? Burn them all.” Jaime said with a scowl. “Burn them all.”

Tyrion looked in shock and quickly asked.

“But brother, why did you not tell anyone?”

“Oh yes, tell someone. Of what? I was called kingslayer the moment Ned Stark here entered the throne room and saw me on that damn throne. Do you think anyone asked why I did it? No, no one did.”

“And it wouldn’t matter.” Ned said, eliciting a gasp in surprise from Tyrion and the rest of the lords. “It wouldn’t matter because despite you breaking your oath for another, that of a knight, you failed in your duty as a knight as well, Ser Jaime.”

“I…I don’t…” stuttered the disgraced Lannister

“What did Prince Rhaegar order you to do before he left the Red Keep?”

Ned had gotten him pinned. He watched as Jaime answered annoyed.

“I know damn well, he told me to protec…” then the knight went silent, and Jaime lowered his eyes in shame before sighing. “He told me to protect his wife, daughter and son.”

Jaime looked defeated then, and Ned had to press on.

“Aye. Protect the children, protect the queen. Your actions against Aerys might have been justified, but you broke your oath all the same. If you hadn’t sat on that damn chair, maybe Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon would have lived. Your father would never have let his assassins go through you to get to them.”

Jaime was flabbergasted and distraught, so, Ned just kept pressing on.

“If you hate the nickname kingslayer that much, then how about Queenslayer? Or Oathbreaker? You didn’t kill Elia or her children but the blood is still on your hands. Or how about sister-fucker? Seriously, Jaime, do not tell me you fucked Cersei to save the city from wildfire.”

Jaime looked down.

“No.” Was his only response.

“Then it doesn’t matter what you killed Aerys for. You still had broken your oaths whatever they may be on that day, and you kept breaking them one after the other. The Night’s Watch is your last hope to prove to the world that there is still a sliver of honour in you, but do not expect the world to treat you like you didn’t break your oaths after what you’ve done.”

Ned moved his attention away from a shocked Jaime Lannister back into the dwindling fire in front of a flabbergasted crowd, that included Tyrion. The only one that wasn’t flabbergasted was the Hound, who was silently chuckling next to the imp.

After a moment of silence, Lord Karstark spoke up, this time turning to Benjen.

“So, you’ve seen the fuckers, ey?”

Benjen nodded.

“Hundreds of them, beyond the mountain pass. We wanted to take one whole, but we couldn’t, they were too numerous, and we just needed to make it out alive by that point. I lost five brothers that day, and three more during the return to Castle Black.”

Rickard Karstark mumbled under his breath.

“One Stark says they exist, another says he saw them with his own eyes, I’m starting to believe in these tales. Rodrik, pour me some ale will ya? I think I’m gonna need it.”

Rodrik Ryswell executed himself and poured a few glasses, one for each member around the fire, even Jaime Lannister. Ned didn’t particularly like alcohol, but in this case, he had to admit it was the best way of keeping himself warm. It was then the GreatJon Umber’s turn to speak:

“So, what do they look like? Smell like?”

“I expect you’ve seen a dead body Lord Umber?” Benjen asked. “Well they look exactly like them, and they smell exactly like one, just rotten flesh and bones.”

“And you say dragonglass can stop them?”

“Yes, dragonglass stops them dead in their tracks no matter where you hit them. If you hit them with regular steel, you will have to destroy their heads and ribcage entirely to stop them. Fire also is an effective way of dealing with them, as it stops them neat too.”

“We have piles of dragonglass now thanks to Lord Stark.” Said Lord Tallhart. “That shouldn’t be a problem, then?”

Benjen shook his head.

“They come in thousands. You fight on one versus five odds, and that is not counting the Icy Others.”

“What are the Icy Others?” inquired Tyrion.

“The Others look exactly like us, more or less.” Answered Benjen. “But they are made of ice, true ice. They wield blades made of magical ice that shatter any sort of steel. Dragonglass can hold them for one or two hits but shatters all the same. I saw them at Skirling Pass, they haunt my nightmares since then. I can still see their blue eyes staring right into my soul. It is something I wish I could forget but just cannot.”

Everyone stood silently, and Lord Karstark tried to lighten the mood up.

“Well don’t worry tomorrow, we’ll find the fuckers and…”

Suddenly a gush of wind came. That wind wasn’t just freezing, it was beyond that. Ned thought that every bone in his body might have shattered from the cold. The wind was so cold it blew out nearly every fire from the campsite. Panicked, Tyrion Lannister was the first to let out:

“What in seven hells was that?”

“That” responded Benjen Stark, lighting a torch and tentatively igniting another fire. “Is the Other’s way of saying they are coming. Stand ready.”

Suddenly the camp sprung to life as orders were shouted and a great noise made itself known around the woods. Ned shuddered; he hadn’t heard anything like this in his life. It was like a hiss, but much quieter. The rumble shook the woods nearby, and suddenly figures could be made out of the woods as the men scrambled to keep the fires lighted.

“WIGHTS!” Benjen screamed! “Everyone stand ready!”

Ned saw every lord unsheathing their swords slowly, both shocked and in fear, not that he could blame them, he was damn near shitting himself and he already had pissed his pants. Or was it Lord Ryswell next to him? Not like it mattered, his eyes were fixated on what was coming out of the woods. Suddenly, the Hound was the first to react.

“What in the seven hells are those cunts?”

It was then that Ned saw them. Dead. Men. Walking. They were all ragged, some with missing limbs, or worse, missing flesh, leaving gaping holes in their bodies where you could see their insides or their bones. Some were walking skeletons, with only bits of flesh covering some areas, and all of them had one thing in common. Eyes as blue as a tropical island sea.

Ned didn’t have much time to react as they were already on them. He drew Ice and parried the first blow from a walker that came with a short sword. That one he could make quick work out of. Ice smashed through the body like it was cake, and Ned found himself against a woman…well what was left of it.

This one had an axe though, and Ned had trouble parrying the blows. However, with a couple inspired blows, he managed to slice the wights head clean off, before the smell of dead bodies overwhelmed him and he threw up, painting the snow dark green.

He didn’t have much more respite, as two wights came onto him. He threw up on one of them, the smell of rotten flesh and his own insides turning him green, making him throw up once more as Ice cut through the two wights, and they just kept coming.

By the time the tenth had come upon Ned, he felt like he had nothing more to bring out of his stomach, and managed to regain some kind of focus. Checking his surroundings, he saw his brother masterfully handle a few wights with the Halfhand. Jaime Lannister was struggling with his one hand but was defending his brother, armed with an axe, from an onslaught of fifteen wights. The Hound was fighting with the Tallhart lord, both shocked, while he saw Lords Ryswell and Karstark holding off a few more wights.

Suddenly, a young boy in black came running to him. Ned instinctively drew up his sword but stopped it as he recognized who it was.

“Domeric, how’s the situation?”

The boy didn’t have time to answer as a young redheaded girl came beside him and spoke first.

“There’s too many of the fuckers, our lines won’t hold for long and we’re running out of arrows! Tormund is holding them off with the Thenns and the Shadow Clansmen, but they won’t be holding for long.”

Domeric chimed in.

“Aye, my father said his position might be overwhelmed if we don’t start to organize ourselves in a proper fashion.”

“Has he tried to organize a defence perimeter?”

“He has, but the men are in disarray” Domeric shouted “No one can hear anything.”

Well shit, had he gone too far forward? He trusted Benjen that he hadn’t, but they were right, they might get overwhelmed if something wouldn’t be done soon, the wights were attacking from all sides, except the back.

“Right, tell your father to come to me right now.” Ned answered before bellowing: “Tallhart!”

The lord smashed another wight skull before hurrying to Ned, who saw that his brother wouldn’t be able to contain the onslaught for long.

“Tallhart, get to the back, order a retreat in as good an order as you can back to Castle Black through the Elk’s Gate. The most experienced will try to hold off as many as we can before joining you.”

Tallhart nodded and ran off, while Domeric ran back with his father. The leech lord looked as shocked as him and had green around his mouth. Ned felt relieved he wasn’t the only one that threw up his dinner on the battlefield.

“Roose, you have command of the front-guard foot. Make sure the wights cannot cut our lines and hold position with what you have, we make an orderly retreat as we can towards the Elk’s Pass.” Ned told him. “Domeric, you stay with me.”

The Bolton lord nodded and rushed towards the frontlines. Domeric stood at his side and came to help Benjen who was in difficulty against four wights.

“I’m staying with him.” The red-headed wildling girl said, drawing two dragonglass daggers out of her coat and joining Domeric in the fray. Ned brushed aside four, five, six more dead men before seeing the one thing he dreaded to see.

Out of the woods came a pale figure, made of true ice, handling an icy blade. The figure slowly walked through the chaos and slashed through three Stark soldiers like they were cake. He then made his way towards Rickard Karstark, who managed to avoid the Other’s slash. The head of the Karstarks then made a move towards the Other, but his blade met the ice one, and Karstark’s sword smashed into a million pieces.

“No!” yelled Karstark as he was thrown to the ground by the Other, who smirked and raised his sword, going for the killing blow. But then a thunderous clang was heard throughout the woods. Ned looked and sure enough, he was there. He didn’t know how he got there. One moment he was watching the fight from afar, the next he was parrying the Other’s ice sword with his own, to the astonishment of everyone watching, as the fight seemed to have frozen in time.

Ned didn’t have to think or look at the baffled expression on the Other’s face as he rose his sword up again, once more meeting the icy blade of the Other. Third time was the charm though as Ned managed to outmanoeuvre his opponent, smashing his sword into the Other’s body, shattering him into a million shards of ice but not before the Other could breathe out words in an icy cold voice.

“S…S…S…t…a…. r….k.”

With that, about three quarters of the wights on the battlefield ceased to move and just dropped dead once more. A quarter was still fighting, but that was better odds than they were just going through.

Benjen was the first to react, nodding to Ned before screaming at the top of his lungs:

“Ropes! Bags! Get as many alive as you can!”

As Ned gathered his breath, he leant out his hand to Rickard Karstark, still in shock as Roose and Domeric Bolton, Rodrik Ryswell, the GreatJon Umber, Tyrion and Jaime Lannister, Qhorin Halfhand, Ygritte and the Hound looked at him in shock.

Rickard Karstark slowly got to his feet before saying in a slow, muffled voice:

“Well, Ned. Next time, remember to tell me to never, ever doubt your word again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big update that was hard to write, hence the delay on getting it out. Hope you liked it anyways! Chapter 9 will be the last before the time skip and we head back to Winterfell and Robb for Part 1.


	14. Chapter IX: Winter is coming - Robb VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb returns to Winterfell.  
> [Smut Warning]

**Chapter IX**

**Part I**

**Robb VI**

**WARNING: Sexually explicit scene in this chapter. If it’s not your thing, I advise you to stop reading where the signals /!\ start, as it continues through to the end of the chapter. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter.**

Robb sighed in relief at the sight of the towers of Winterfell. It had been a long march back down from Castle Black, and he’d longed to see a proper room and bed again after so much riding. He turned to Val, the wildling princess, who stood in awe at the sight of the seat of the Lords of the North.

“So, this is where you live?” she asked

“It is the seat of the Starks, yes. The old seat of the kings of winter.” He answered.

“It’s huge, it’s larger than Castle Black, or any of the towns we saw on the way.” She continued, still in shock at the size of the castle.

“Aye, it is. It is so large it even has a small forest inside it, and no one truly knows the amount of rooms it holds.”

Robb kicked his horse forward, the large gates opening before him, as he and his party entered the courtyard. Quickly, a small crowd scrambled around the riders, and Maester Luwin quickly approached Robb as he descended from his horse.

“Maester Luwin.” he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Lord Robb.” The old man bowed slightly “It’s a pleasure to welcome you back to Winterfell, much has happened.”

Robb nodded. “Do you wish to speak it now or later in my father’s solar?”

Maester Luwin nodded. “Take a rest, Lord Robb, but I advise you to meet with me as soon as possible, a raven has come from your father.”

“My father, he’s back from beyond-the-wall already?” Robb asked surprised as Val came up beside him.

“He has, and the news he bears is worrying to say the least.”

“Then we mustn’t wait much longer. Before we go to my father’s solar, I do have a favour to ask of you Maester Luwin.”

“Of course, Lord Robb, what is it?”

“Dalla here” Robb gestured to the pregnant woman behind him. “Is under my protection and my father made a promise to accommodate her as best as we could so that her pregnancy and birth would go as well as possible. Could you prepare chambers appropriate for her condition and a few handmaidens and midwives if you please?”

“Of course, Lord Robb, it will be done.” The old maester turned to Dalla. “If you would please follow me, my lady.”

“No lady nonsense here, old man.” Dalla answered. “Only Dalla, we free folk are no southron ladies, we do not need to be addressed as such.”

Luwin only nodded and scurried away, and Robb turned back to the gathering crowd in the courtyard.

“Right.” He said. “Jory, Samwell, Lord Halys, Lord Medger, come with me to my solar.” He then turned to Val. “You too Val.”

The wildling woman raised her eyebrows.

“Why me?”

“Because you are a leader of the free folk as long as you are here. Mance may be their leader, but you are the face most people in Winterfell will place on the free folk. Therefore, you are privy to any information I share with my bannermen. We are allies in this war. And also…” he leaned closer to her. “Because any information I have, you are entitled to it as well.”

Val nodded and smiled.

“Then lead the way, my wolf.”

Robb nodded and made his way around the castle, going down several corridors before finally finding the way to Ned’s solar. Robb had been in it a couple times, of course, but he’d never stood as the leader, the role going to his father every time. He sighed as he sat down, now the responsibility of acting lord of Winterfell went on his shoulders, and he intended to make the best of it.

He slowly sat down in Ned’s chair, before bidding the five men and Val to sit down before him. Maester Luwin put several scrolls before him before Robb stated to speak.

“Right, Maester Luwin, before we start, how fare my siblings?”

“Quite well, my lord. Brandon has been confined to his rooms but Lord Reed has given him the chance to fly.” The signal was not lost on Robb. Well, Bran was gone now, he could only pray to whatever gods existed that he’d come back safe and sound. “Lady Catelyn and Lady Sansa left for Highgarden two days ago, and Rickon has been wandering around the castle with his direwolf.”

Robb nodded, and was about to ask another question, when Lord Medger Cerwyn interrupted.

“I beg your pardon, Lord Robb, but before we continue, I wish to ask, why is this man.” He said, pointing to Samwell, “and this wildling woman” he said pointing to Val, who he knew resisted the urge of slitting the man’s throat right then and there, “doing here?”

Robb turned to Lord Cerwyn and stared him dead in the eyes.

“This man, has a name, and you shall address him as Lord Samwell. He’s here because my father accepted Maester Aemon’s request of bringing him to Oldtown and as such is a guest here. Since he’s leaving for the Citadel, I thought it best to invite him to stay here so the old maesters know what we’re dealing with here. As for that woman, as you call her, she also has a name, which is Val, and you will also address her as such, Lord Cerwyn, lest I get very upset with you.” The Lord gulped slightly, Robb had put on his best performance today, it seemed. “And any decision we take concerns her. She is the representative of the free folk at Winterfell and as such is privy to any information my other bannermen would have. Now barring further interruptions…” he turned to Lord Cerwyn who was sweating slightly “Maester Luwin, what news of my father and the north?”

Maester Luwin put a first scroll before Robb.

“Theon Greyjoy writes from the Moat.” Maester Luwin said. “He says construction on Moat Cailin is going better than expected and work should be done ahead of schedule.”

Robb smirked while reading the letter, Theon had done a great job indeed, now he only hoped his friend wouldn’t get bored of his duties. He had a few plans in mind.

“But that isn’t the main issue.” Maester Luwin continued as he placed a second raven scroll on Robb’s desk. “Your father wrote, and you might want to read it yourself.

Robb picked up the letter wearily, and began reading.

_To all the lords of the North and the Seven Kingdoms_

_I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do hereby swear on my honour that the contents of this letter are true and six lords of the north whose signature and seals are present on this letter vouch for._

_Investigating reports of wildling attacks and disappearing rangers, I led an expedition of seven hundred men North of the Wall into the Haunted Forest. There, we encountered an ancient enemy that we seemed to have forgotten about._

_Our host was attacked by at least ten thousand wights – or as you would call them – dead men walking, undead creatures, and an Other, skin as pale as ice. Our host repelled the attack at the cost of a hundred and fifteen men. I slew the Other in single combat, and our host managed to capture several undead which will soon be making their way south in the care of Night’s Watchmen._

_This is a warning from beyond-the-wall. Winter is coming, and death marches on the wall. Help is needed._

_Signed, Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Rickard Karstark, Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Helman Tallhart, Lord Jeor Mormont, Lord Jon Umber and Lord Rodrik Ryswell_

Robb passed on the letter to Val, who nodded and passed it on to the lords beside her. Lord Cerwyn went pale, and so did Lord Hornwood. Samwell merely scoffed and muttered “About time they knew what we’re fighting”, before Jory Cassel handed the letter back to Maester Luwin, hands trembling.

Robb remained silent for a minute, and Maester Luwin once more took the opportunity to ask:

“So, is this true? The Others have returned?”

“It seems as though they have, Maester Luwin.” Robb answered, before turning to Val. “Hopefully the free folk will now be able to pass the wall freely. As acting lord of Winterfell I’ll sign anything that ensures your people’s safety.”

He turned back to the three lords.

“My lords, you’ve seen the contents of the letter. Seven honourable men have signed it, I do believe this means we need help to be sent to the Wall as soon as possible. Gather builders, masons, blacksmiths, anything that can help restore the Wall’s castles is fine. I want Bear Island refortified, I want Barrowtown strengthened, I want Last Hearth impregnable and above all I want Winterfell to stand once this is over. Time is running out, and winter is coming.”

The lords nodded and Robb rose out of his seat, escorting them out, before turning to Samwell.

“Lord Samwell, I’m afraid Lord Manderly has written and a few squalls have delayed your departure for Oldtown by two moons. In the meantime, you are a guest in Winterfell, and I’ll make sure you have full access to our library if you wish.”

Samwell nodded

“Thank you, Lord Stark, you are too kind.”

“Call me Robb in private, no need for such formalities. Maester Aemon trusts you, and so does my father, I don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

A lie of course, Robb trusted Samwell because his character in the books was very trustworthy, having the benefit of hindsight is always great.

Samwell nodded and made his way out, leaving Robb alone with Val.

“Well, I expect the lords of the north to be more courteous towards you next time, my apologies Val.”

She just waved him off.

“Bah, the kneeler lords can jape and jest all they want. They won’t be for long when they face my daggers.”

“Val, please no killing, these are my bannermen.”

“Aye, fine, fine. No killing. But how about mutilating? A finger perhaps?” she said with a smile.

“Val…”

“Oh, why so serious all the time? Only a jest, my wolf. In the meantime, I do feel tired, could you lead me to our chambers?”

Robb laughed and led her on to his room, a quite large one with a bed big enough for two people, although less large than his father’s room.

Val’s eyes widened at the size of the room

“I’m afraid it’s smaller than my father’s room, and I don’t think claiming it would be proper…” Robb started before being cut off by Val

“What do you mean? It’s bigger than Mance’s tent!” the wildling princess laughed.

Robb smiled again, and Val sat down on the bed, feeling its comfort. She then rose u and clasped Robb’s cheeks with her hands, bringing his lips to hers.

“Val…” Robb muttered.

“What? Do you wish to do it in a tent, like before?” Val laughed

“Listen, Val. I need to tell you something. I…I want to marry you.” Robb said while blushing

“Marry me? I’ve stolen you, is that not enough for you, lord wolf?”

“It won’t be for the lords of the north, but to be frank I don’t give two shits about what they think.”

Val looked surprised.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. I want to marry you because you are the only one who looks at me for what I am. To you, I’m not the heir to Winterfell, I’m just another kneeler. I feel happy every time I’m with you, you are beautiful, fiery, but also kind and caring, you have a good heart, Val.”

Robb stepped to her and kissed her again.

“I want you to be by my side through this, I can’t do it without you.”

Val smirked.

“Aye, fine, I’ll say the vows in front of your heart tree, my wolf. But I have a condition.”

It was Robb’s turn to be surprised.

“And what would that be?”

“Prove to me that you are worthy of me, young wolf, and I’ll be yours. Tonight, I want the wolf you’ve been hiding under that kneeler skin. Prove to me you are a true wolf, and I’ll be there with you, always.”

Robb smiled and leant in to kiss her again.

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This time, his kiss was more profound, as Robb forced his way into Val’s mouth, their tongues dancing with each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then Robb shoved Val onto the bed, leaning onto her.

“You want the wolf? I’ll give you the wolf, Val.”

Val smirked as Robb kissed her neck deeply, eliciting a moan from the wildling princess, before trailing up her neck and biting her ear. He began to kiss her neck again, before plunging his tongue back into her mouth, brushing her braid aside as his hands began removing Val’s garments. Val tried to reach for Robb’s breaches, but Robb stopped her movement in an instant.

“I fear you’re not leading this time Val.” Robb said with a smirk.

Val smiled and instead watched as Robb removed his shirt, exposing his chest and bringing down his trousers. He then lifted Val up, removing her small clothes and exposing her breasts.

Robb dove in again, suckling on them as Val groaned. He carefully took one in his fingers, pinching her nipples as they were getting harder, once more eliciting a shudder from Val as he suckled the other.

“Please, Robb. No more teasing.”

“As you wish.”

Robb pulled Val back up and laid down on the bed, removing his last piece of clothing and revealing his hard member.

Val looked up with lust in her eyes, but Robb quickly interrupted her by saying

“Well, what are you waiting for? Suck on it.”

Val smiled and started putting his head between her lips before slowly plunging in, taking in his first few inches. Robb groaned from the pleasure, but wasn’t about to let Val win. If she wants a wolf, she was going to get one.

Robb’s hands slowly made their way through Val’s silver-blonde hair and in one swift motion, he forced Val all the way down his shaft. The wildling princess gagged and widened her eyes in surprise, but Robb made sure she couldn’t fight it.

Val’s eyes then turned from shock to lust as she suckled on the base of his shaft, her tongue wrapping itself around his member, and Robb felt that he was losing control, so he removed Val from his cock, before plunging her back down again, facefucking the wildling princess.

And she seemed to be enjoying it, moaning into his shaft as tears started forming around her lust-filled eyes from the constant plunging Robb made her endure. She gagged several times as she only went further down his cock, feeling his tip reach the back of her mouth and into her throat.

Robb only picked up the pace, Val’s head bobbing up and down as spit and drool started to form over and under her mouth. Finally, Robb decided to release the wildling princess’ mouth from his cock prison, as Val drew in a deep breath, cleaning herself of the mess her head now was, spit, tears, drool and precum messing around her head. For a second, Robb thought he’d went too far, but Val smiled at him.

“Fuck.” She moaned before turning to Robb “I’ve awoken the wolf, I see. I want more, young wolf, I want you inside of me right now.”

Robb only smirked in response as he made his way down her body with kisses.

“Didn’t I already tell you you weren’t the one deciding what I’ll do with you tonight?”

“Hmm” Val moaned, “Well then show me, my wolf.”

Robb continued smiling, bringing his kisses all the way down to her lovebud, while Val continued begging for him to stop.

“Stop…teasing…oh!”

Val gasped in surprise as Robb’s tongue entered her. Val shuddered and Robb knew he was doing something right, so he pressed on, his tongue eliciting moans from Val every time he moved it.

“Yes…yes…yes, my wolf, don’t stop…oh…don’t you dare…stop…or I’ll…ah!”

Robb continued licking her, and brought a finger to help, while Val was now a mess, moaning in pleasure. Robb picked up the pace, and Val’s moans became only louder and louder.

“Fuck, Robb, I’m…ah…I’m going to…”

She didn’t finish as juices came pouring out of her cunt, Robb lapping them like Grey Wind would lap at water from a stream.

“You taste delicious” Robb said. “I bet you’ll want to taste yourself too.”

Robb moved up the princess’ body and gave her a deep kiss, Val tasting her own juices as she shuddered from her previous orgasm. But Robb didn’t let her have any respite as he moved back down towards her lovebud.

“I am a merciful man, I will give you what you seek, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

Val would have scowled at that, he knew, but in her state, she was just a mess and pleaded Robb to continue.

“Please, my wolf, take me. I am yours, take me, put your cock inside of me, I need it, put it in right now!”

“As you wish” Robb answered as he picked her up, his member finding her entrance quickly. Robb didn’t have to tease much, and his cock entered her roughly as Val let out a huge moan.

“Fuck!” she cried out, still panting from her previous orgasm. “Fuck me, yes, just like…that…ah”

Val cried out as Robb quickened the pace inside of her. Robb continued pounding her sex over and over until the only words coming out of her mouth were moans of pleasure. Robb himself was having a hard time keeping himself composed as the tightness of her cunt was too much to bear and Robb also began grunting in pleasure.

Robb didn’t let his grunts be heard however, as Val only continued screaming in pleasure as Robb continued to thrust inside her, the sound of her ass cheeks meeting his body becoming louder as he did not relent on his pace.

Val continued screaming in pleasure but managed to utter a few words as Robb continued his thrusts deep inside her.

“Fuck…Robb…I’m going to cum again…ahhh…”

But Robb didn’t stop, his thrusts only becoming quicker as Val came once more, her juices coating Robb’s cock. Val shuddered once more, this time likely from the pleasure of the orgasm combined to Robb’s member reaching deep inside of her, and tears of pleasure began to form around her eyes as she let herself be submerged in pleasure.

Robb continued his thrusting, Val’s walls continuing to push him closer and closer to his own breaking point. By then, Val had completely been overwhelmed.

“Fuck…Robb…don’t stop…fuck me like the bitch I am…ah…fuck!”

Robb continued thrusting in and out, and Val’s moans of pleasure combined with her warm and tight insides took their toll on Robb, who gave in to the pleasure as well, his moans matching Val’s as he continued plunging into her sex.

Finally, Robb couldn’t take any more, as Val’s juices continued to ruin the bed, he felt her insides closing in on his cock, her walls trying to milk him of his seed. Finally, Robb felt like he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“Val I’m going to…”

“Do it, cum inside me, please!” The wildling princess begged. “I want to feel your hot seed inside me; I want to taste the pleasure of your seed filling up my cunt!”

Robb didn’t have to be asked twice. He let out a howl as his cum painted Val’s inside white, cum spurting deep inside of Val’s cunt, filling her to the brim, ropes of seed coming out of her cunt as Robb pulled out and fell onto the bed next to Val, exhausted.

Val cleaned the cum that was pouring out of her insides with her fingers, bringing it to her mouth and moaning at the taste as she swallowed it.

“If you take me like this every night.” Val finally said, panting. “I’ll gladly be yours forever. I’ll say your vows at the heart tree, my wolf.” And with that, she collapsed onto him, and for the first time in so long, Robb went to sleep with a smile on his face.

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The next morning, Robb stood up from the bed and ran towards Maester Luwin. He had a letter to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Chapter 9 is up as Robb returns to Winterfell and decides to marry his wildling princess.  
> Tried my hand at smut, unsure whether or not I'm good at it, but did manage to put up 1.5k words of it, so I guess it wasn't super-terrible.  
> Next we head to Sunspear as Jon and Arya recieve a surprising visitor.


	15. Chapter IX, Part 2: Winter is coming - Jon VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Arya meet an unexpected visitor.

**Chapter IX**

**Part II**

**Jon VII**

What a shitty night honestly. I’d become slightly more accustomed to the heat during the first week in Sunspear, but I’d also gotten used to waking up early to be able to properly spar and train in the morning, when the heat wasn’t completely overwhelming. It was Prince Oberyn’s idea and a neat one to be fair, I’d gotten on a few spars with him, and although it was mostly Jon controlling it, he’d had been beaten quite a couple times, probably due to the fact that Oberyn preferred the spear, not the sword, and Jon was unaccustomed to it.

As such, I’d managed to wrestle some control over him and finally been able to make the Red Viper bite the dust once, using his cockiness that had cost him his life against the mountain, and the fact that spears do break easily. But Oberyn wasn’t in the yard often and as such sparring partners with the same skill as Jon were few and far between. Just yesterday, I’d completely thrashed Ser Daemon Sand and needless to say he got back at me that night.

I had gone to sleep a bit later than the usual time due to watching a spar between Edric and Arya. Needless to say, Syrio’s lessons and possibly some of the Sand Snakes training had turned Arya into a decent swordsman, or was it swordswoman? Anyhow, Edric didn’t stand a chance, and Arya beat him into the dirt three times with a smug smile on her face every time Edric was forced to yield.

It was likely past 11 in the evening when I reached my room, and all I wanted was a good seven or even maybe eight hours of sleep. I ended up getting slightly less than six hours, thanks to the shenanigans happening in the adjacent room. Despite trying her best, Arianne hadn’t gotten to me and whether or not she was doing this to spite me, to get my attention or to get jealous, it had definitely worked on all three levels. And of course, she’d chosen Daemon Sand to spend the night with her as a final sting. Both had been very loud that night, and despite me just trying to ignore the noise or pulling my pillow over my head, it just didn’t work, and I felt like it was college all over again, except this time I couldn’t just put headphones over my head and listen to soothing music to cover it up.

The ruckus hadn’t lasted long, but enough for me to lose enough sleep over it, and now my eyes felt like they weighed ten kilograms. I needed a couple doses of water over my face to recover slightly to not look completely like shit when I presented myself at breakfast. I’d also have to think of a way of getting revenge on Arianne, but I would never go for a direct approach to it. Revenge was stupid, getting even on the other hand was much better and it’d prove I wasn’t one to let go easily either. Shrugging and walking away was a possibility of course, but that meant Arianne would win and I was damn well not going to let my pride take a hit like that.

“Come on boy, let’s go.” I said, as I opened the door, urging Ghost to get some air. The direwolf hadn’t been a problem and spent most of his time around the pools and gardens of the castle with Nymeria, with them occasionally leaving for the nearby woods for a day or two.

Ghost strutted down the corridor, heading down towards the small dining hall, where Arya and Edric were already waiting, without any of the sand snakes this time around, not like I cared much about them in the first place, but I would need at least one of them to help me get even with Arianne. I’d just have to meet with them later.

Strutting down towards the table and taking a piece of meat and a jug of water, Arya eyed me up and down before smiling.

“You look like shit, Jon.”

“That bad?”

“You look as if you haven’t slept all night.”

“Quite the observer, Arya. Not quite, but yes, I had a rough night.”

Arya smirked before leaning forward.

“With company?”

Edric nearly choked on his drink as he coughed up a few times. Sparing him a look, I turned back to Arya quickly with a surprised look on my face.

“No.”

Arya shook her head, keeping the smile on her face.

“Shame, I’d thought you’d fallen for the princess by now.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint.”

Arya eyed me intently before turning to Edric, who was going for another sip of water.

“And you Edric, did you manage to get on with Lady Lance yet?”

Edric choked on his drink again as I couldn’t help by mutter a chuckle. The storm kid got up in a hurry.

“I…erm…I might be a bit sick. Coughing and all that, I’ll see you later if you don’t mind.”

“She likes you too, Edric.” Arya said smiling, fiddling with her goblet.

“She…she does?”

“I would talk to her if I were you.”

Edric smiled and nodded, scurrying out of the room to gods knows where.

“You like torturing him, don’t you?” I asked Arya.

She shrugged. “It’s the truth, Elia does like him. Just not in the way he thinks.”

“Right.” I interrupted before getting into details I most certainly not wanted to know. “I saw you cut your hair.”

“It bothered me. Got into my eyes when I train, and that’s not even speaking of the heat. Besides, you cut yours as well.”

“I kept most of it though, you cut yours by half.”

She shrugged again.

“You can’t tell me what to do with my hair, you’re going to sound like mother between that and asking me to pay attention to my lessons.”

It was my turn to laugh.

“Come on, Arya. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve gotten more than enough freedoms. You can dress how you wish; you can have your hair done how you wish; you have sword lessons with your dance master and you get to train with warrior women. I don’t think me asking you to pay attention in your lessons is a stretch.”

Arya nodded. “Yes, I guess you are right. I’m sorry, Jon, you aren’t like mother.” She sighed, but quickly smiled again as she pressed her elbows on the table and leant towards me. “Now, real talk now that Edric isn’t here.” She said with a wicked expression on her face, which earnt a raised eyebrow from me.

“Did you fuck her?”

“Arya!” I nearly screamed in shock.

“What? I’m not a stupid girl, I know what men and women like to do between each other.”

“Who taught you that?” I growled.

“No one.” She said with an innocent look on her face, trying to steer the conversation away.

I’d need to have a stern talk with Oberyn about what his daughters could and couldn’t say in front of Arya. She was only eleven for fuck’s sake.

“Now come on Jon, answer the question.” She asked again.

“No.” I said sternly.

She eyed me intently, before continuing on her roll.

“Do you want to?”

“No.” I responded with a hint of annoyance.

“You don’t know how to lie, Jon.” Arya said with a smile. “I can see how you look at her. It’s the same look Edric gives Elia. Now, do you like her?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, annoyed.

“I’m curious, brother. Now come on, do you like her?”

“No.” I answered sternly once more.

“Gods, Jon you really are a terrible liar.” Arya said laughing. “You can’t keep secrets from me, I’m your sister.”

If only you knew.

“So, you like her, and she clearly looks interested in you, so why aren’t you together already?”

“It’s more complicated than you think.”

“What do you me…”

Suddenly, a voice came up in the room, interrupting us. I thanked the gods for the divine intervention meaning I wouldn’t have to continue this conversation. I turned around and saw Maester Caleotte, the fat maester running up with three raven scrolls in his hands.

“Maester Caleotte, what is it?”

“Three ravens for you, Lord Jon. Two from Winterfell and one from Starfall.”

Arya’s eyes lit up as the word Winterfell was mentioned, and I thanked the maester, who scurried back out the door. I opened the first raven scroll, reading attentively, my face draining of blood as I read.

“What is it?” Arya asked with a concerned look.

“Read it.” I said as I handed her the scroll. She read it, and slowly her face also drained white.

“It…it can’t be.” She whispered.

“Father and seven other lords signed it and sealed it. It has to be true.”

“Then we need to go back to Winterfell now!” Arya cried out.

“No. Father said that we are to stay in Dorne and await further news, you read that as well.”

Arya sighed as she put her head between her hands.

“What happens now?” she asked, concerned.

“The Martells won’t send any help unless they see a dead man themselves. Now we only wait and hope they aren’t stupid enough to lay back and do nothing.”

Arya nodded.

“And the other letter from Winterfell?”

I quickly opened the unbroken seal, and quickly read through its contents, sighing deeply as I handed Arya the letter. Robb, you utter fool, couldn’t you keep it in your pants for more than a fucking day? And he wanted to marry Val as well? Gods this situation was terrible.

Arya on the other hand looked overjoyed.

“Does that mean Robb is going to get married?” she said with a smile on her face.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You don’t seem happy, Jon.”

“I’m not. Robb might have well caused a civil war in the north, and it will be difficult for father to pick up the pieces.”

“Why?”

“Because as heir to Winterfell, Robb has the duty of marrying into a highborn family, preferably from the North. It’s been three generations since no northern family has married into the Stark line, and our bannermen could see this as an insult.”

“They are our bannermen, they should obey us anyways.”

“As I said, things are never that simple. The northern lords could maybe accept a southerner, but a wildling? We’ve been at war with them for thousands of years, this could very well be taken as an insult from our bannermen.”

“So, what happens now?”

“We hope father can keep the north together. We cannot afford to be divided in these times.”

Fucking hell, Robb did you even think of the consequences before this? You disliked Robb stark for his actions with Jeyne Westerling but you’ve just gone and done close to the same thing. Now he could only pray Ned had enough capital and leverage to keep the northern lords at bay.

“And the third letter?” Arya asked.

Picking it up, I noticed the seal of house Dayne was broken, unlike the two other letters. Interesting. Once more I read the contents, but these shocked me even more than the two previous ones. This was very, very unexpected.

I quickly shredded the letter and put the contents in my pocket.

“What did it say?” Arya said confused.

“Nothing important. Edric Dayne is coming this evening and he wants to meet us.”

Arya shrugged and started leaving the table.

“Going somewhere?”

“I promised Tyene I would spar with her before my afternoon lessons. You might want to come; the sand snakes would love to talk with you” she said that last part with a grin.

“You know what, I think I’ll come this time, I want to see how my sister fares against the snakes.”

She chuckled.

“I’m afraid you’re in for a disappointment.”

“I doubt you could ever disappoint me, Arya.” I said as I left the corridor with her.

And I wasn’t disappointed. Although Tyene won easily, Arya did put up a fight before excusing herself for her lessons. This did leave me some time alone with the snakes and they were indeed a peculiar bunch. After a few spars, most had taken a liking to me, which I didn’t know how to interpret. Beating down Daemon Sand again had also been quite satisfying, as I also made sure Arianne would be alone in her room that night. Daemon would take some time to recover from those bruises, a week perhaps? Everything was timed like clockwork, and I would manage to get back at her as soon as tonight.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, Arianne sitting smugly in her room during our game of cyvasse, but I let no emotions transpire, I was getting better and better at both games it seemed. Still, she thought she had won, as she didn’t tell me she’d see me tomorrow, but rather tonight. I had to give it to her, she was confident, but I wasn’t going to let her win like this.

Before I had to put my plan into motion, though, I had to deal with the Dayne problem. I scurried down the stairs, not knowing what to expect from this meeting. The mention of Edric Dayne wasn’t really surprising, but the mention of the two other names, that was another matter. I didn’t really have time for thought as Arya came along.

“So how were your lessons?”

“They were alright.” Arya shrugged. “How did you find the sand snakes?”

“Deadly. In every sense of the word.”

“Aye, that they are.” She nodded. “When is that Edric boy coming?” Arya asked.

“He should already be here. Maester Caleotte told me they would be waiting in the guest hall.”

“They?”

I didn’t have time to answer, as the door creaked open revealing three figures. The first was obviously Edric Dayne, a young boy with blonde hair and purple eyes. The two others however… One was an older woman, with long blonde hair and purple eyes, her hand resting on the shoulder of a younger woman with a slightly lighter shade of black hair, but the same purple eyes.

She older woman stood up as we entered before greeting us.

“Jon, Arya. My name is Ashara Dayne.”

Arya looked confused for a moment.

“Ashara Dayne? That’s not possible, she died years ago.”

“I got better.” The lady said with a smile.

“May I present to you my nephew Edric” she pointed to the blonde boy who exchanged a short bow “and my daughter, Alysanne.” She pointed to the younger woman.

“Am I right in believing that the identity of her father is the reason you came here?” I asked.

She nodded. “It is. Please, take a seat, both of you.”

As we sat, Arya looked more and more uneasy. And finally, it dawned on her.

“She…I mean, Alysanne, you look like…” Arya whispered.

“Eddard Stark. Yes, that’s because he’s her father.” Ashara nodded.

Well, this was definitely not expected. I eyed the younger girl intently, and indeed, she had the same colour of hair as Arya, and the same facial features as Sansa. The only Dayne part of her were her beautiful purple eyes that made house Dayne close to unique in the seven kingdoms.

“Pardon me, Lady Ashara.” I said as Arya tried to gather her thoughts. “But why all the secrecy? Why the need to fake your own death?”

“It’s a long story, but in short, to protect you, Jon.”

“To protect me? I don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say much more. Unless your father told you who your mother is.”

“I do know who my mother is.”

Both Ashara, Edric and Alysanne looked shocked at this revelation and turned to Arya.

“She doesn’t know.” I anticipated their question.

“Doesn’t know what? Please, Jon, I need to know.” Arya said, tears forming in her eyes. I sighed as I turned to Arya.

“Arya. Whatever happens, what I will tell you must not come out of this room. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I want you to swear it on the old and new gods, and on the head of father and Nymeria.”

“Jon, I…”

“Swear it Arya.” I said, deadly serious.

“I swear it, I’ll never tell anyone. May the old gods lay their full wrath on me if ever I speak of what you are about to tell me.”

I nodded. “Good. Well, I’m sorry, Arya, I am not your brother. I am your cousin.”

“My cousin? So, you’re from Brandon then? That’s why you were kept away from Catelyn, because you were a threat to Robb?”

“No, not Brandon.”

Arya seemed confused for a moment, thinking for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, then her face paled.

“No, it can’t be. You…”

“He is Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. In short, he’s the heir to the Iron Throne, which is why we needed the secrecy.” Responded Ashara to a visibly shocked Arya. “Once again, you cannot tell anyone of this. Your brother’s safety depends on it.”

Arya nodded slightly, with tears in her eyes starting to roll down her left cheek.

“You must continue calling him brother, you must act like nothing ever happened, do you understand?” Ashara said in a sweet but serious tone.

“I do.” Was her only answer.

Ashara nodded but I still hadn’t had an answer to my question.

“This still doesn’t explain why you faked your own death, Lady Ashara.”

“Because Alysanne would raise too many questions. Ned and I met at Harrenhal and fell in love, Alysanne is the fruit of that union. He promised to marry me, but the rebellion happened.” Ashara sighed. “Ned was forced to marry your mother, Arya. I don’t blame him for it, but it now made the daughter I was carrying a Sand. When he came to Starfall, he met Alysanne and wanted to raise her in the North, I dissuaded him out of it. It would bring too many questions. Ned had wanted to spin a story about how he bedded a whore or a commoner out of grief over Lyanna’s death, but with me and Alysanne alive, it would never have been believable. The honourable Ned Stark, bedding another woman after putting his first love with child and having been married? People can believe certain lies, such as your father bedding someone else than his wife, as they did with Jon, but this was too much of a stretch. Alysanne and I had to disappear. I faked my death; my family spun a story about how I was stricken with grief over losing my brother and how I threw myself out of the tallest tower of Starfall into the Torrentine. Alysanne was picked up by my goodsister, Jenna Santagar, the wife of my eldest brother, Martyn Dayne, and raised as Edric’s sister. I dyed my hair blonde instead of dark and raised her in Starfall.”

“And why come to me now, why not keep the secret?”

“I wanted Alysanne to meet her family.” Ashara said softly

I nodded.

“What now, then?”

“Edric was squiring for Beric Dondarrion, he will return to his duties soon enough, but he’ll stay with his sister in Sunspear. I want Alysanne to stay slightly longer, I asked Doran to take her as one of princess Arianne’s ladies for a year or two, and then she’ll return to Starfall.”

Both Daynes acquiesced, and Alysanne spoke for the first time.

“I don’t want to force myself into your family. If you don’t want to talk to me because I am a foreigner and a bastard, I’ll understand and…”

Arya cut her off.

“Don’t be sorry. You are my sister, whether I like it or not, and you are a Stark. The pack sticks together, as my father said. I won’t judge you for your status, I’ve never judged Jon for it, so long as you’re not as annoying as Sansa.” Arya paused. “Do you know how to train with a sword?”

“I prefer the spear.”

“Then I think we’ll get along. But don’t expect me to love you like I loved Robb or Jon.”

“I didn’t expect so, Arya.”

Arya nodded and looked back at the table. I hadn’t expected her to give in that fast but it seems that spending time in Dorne has really toughened her and changed her in ways I hadn’t expected. But I quickly turned back to Ashara.

“How many people know?”

Ashara got the message and quickly began thinking and counting in her head.

“You, your father, me, Edric, Alysanne, Martyn, Jenna, Wylla the wetnurse, Howland Reed and Mors Silverstar, the captain of Starfall’s guards. And now Arya. All are trustworthy, so I’d say ten people.”

“Make it twelve.”

“Twelve?”

“Robb knows, and so does Doran.”

“You told them?” Ashara asked shock

“Robb figured it out on his own.” A lie, and I wasn’t about to tell them Theon also knew. “As for Doran, I don’t know. I just figured out it is very likely he does know by the way he talks to me.”

Ashara nodded sombrely.

“That might not be good. Doran was a good man once, but since his sister’s death, he has been blinded by his desire for vengeance, so much so that he has only been thinking about ways of retribution upon those responsible for Elia’s death, even more so than Oberyn.”

“Doran wants one thing. His blood on the iron throne. For Elia.” I answered in an equally dark tone. “And he wants to use me as a way of getting there. He’s using all of his children as pawns in his game. Hells, his brother is also a pawn, it has all become a game for him.”

Ashara nodded. “Which is why he’s dangerous. I don’t know what he wishes of you but you must tread carefully.”

“I will, but I do intend on playing his game and turning it against him.”

“Be very careful then, Jon Stark.”

“I will.”

With that, I stood up and embraced both Ashara and Alysanne, sharing a handshake with Edric, before exiting the room. I noticed Arya wasn’t following and kept sitting down, eyeing Alysanne, Edric and Ashara.

“Arya?” I asked concerned.

“Go on, Jon, I know you have something planned. I wish to stay if it’s no trouble, Lady Ashara, I have several questions.”

“Of course, Arya. I’ll be glad to talk.”

She nodded before turning to me.

“Good night, Jon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“If you need anything Arya, you know where to find me. The lone wolf dies, the pack survives.”

She nodded with a smile and I exited the room, closing the door behind me.

Another wolf in the pack, and the list of people knowing about Jon’s real parentage was only growing. Right now, the secret was well kept, but hadn’t I fucked up by telling Arya who he really was? Did I make as stupid a mistake as Robb did? Shit, this was complicated. I wasn’t really ready for all the intrigue and deception and keeping one plan afloat was already hard, but tracking several? Well it would take some adaptation, at least Alysanne already had a deep cover story, but eventually people would start connecting the dots.

I looked at the Dornish night sky, a chilly breeze settling in, I didn’t have time to dwell on my past actions anymore. Now I could only go forward, and assume any consequences of my actions. There was one last thing I needed to do tonight, and hopefully it would be more enjoyable than anything I had to do today.

Going down the corridor to my room, I hurried my pace, eventually finding myself opening my room, where a feminine voice welcomed me.

“Right on time. You northerners have a sense of exactitude, I see. I must say I was surprised to see your direwolf wasn’t here.”

I jumped for a moment, thinking Arianne had discovered my plan, or worse, but I relaxed after noticing the woman on the bed. Her skin was olive and her hair dark, worn in a long braid that reached the middle of her chest.

“Ghost is away, he’s probably hunting in Sunspear’s woods right now.”

“And has your hunt been fruitful, Jon Stark?”

“Well, you are here. I would say it has.” I answered with a smile, before pointing to her black gown. “How many daggers do you have on you?”

“None. I doubt we’ll need daggers for what comes next.” She smirked as she slowly approached me.

I checked with a quick glance just in case, I’d rather be safe than dead, but indeed, she wasn’t lying. There was no way you could hide daggers under that dress. I smiled as well, moving towards her.

“I doubt we will. But I do still intend on making you scream.”

“Then show me, white wolf.”

And with that, my lips met hers, and this time, I wouldn’t stop the kiss as she undid the top of her dress. Hope you enjoyed your night with Daemon, Arianne, because I’ll be sure you enjoy this one as well.

**Alright, maybe a controversial chapter by bringing Ashara back, but there's your second character that's been brought back from the dead. Next part is the long awaited one where Ned has to pick up the pieces of Robb's fuck up, but I was surprised as to this chapter's length, which is likely longer than Part 3...**


	16. Chapter IX, Part 3: Winter is coming - Eddard VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned attempts to defuse a stick situation

**Chapter IX**

**Part III**

**Eddard VIII**

Ned shook his head. Damn what a mess, and deep down he couldn’t help think it was his fault. Hell, he even thought about the Val-Robb betrothal in the first place, but never followed through with the idea. Yet, he’d still sent Val to Winterfell with Robb, albeit to help Dalla give birth. How could he have expected that Robb would decide to marry the wildling girl in less than two weeks? God dammit, what spell did that girl put on Robb, as far as he knew his friend was very uneasy around women. Jon had certain personal rules, he wasn’t afraid of being around women, but Robb would blush at any conversation he’d have with the opposite sex. What the actual fuck had compelled him to fall for Val, AND demand her hand in marriage?

Now he was stuck in an awful situation. On one hand, he was happy for Robb, that he finally found someone he could be…around with, but on the other, now the northern lords were most displeased, with Robb of course, but also with him as they thought the match had been arranged beforehand. And this came at the worst possible time, when Ned had planned to open the gates of the castles along the wall and let the free folk into the gift. Now the northmen would be very angry and the deal could be lost. He knew he needed advice and that’s precisely why he came to Maester Aemon.

“Looking grim, Lord Stark?” the old maester asked.

“How do you know?” Ned asked quizzically.

“I am blind, but with recent events, I can only imagine why you came to me.”

“So, you know about my s…Robb’s marriage?”

“It’s quite hard to not know, I’m pretty sure the whole castle knows by now. There are many different rumours about it running around.”

“Well, let me put an end to them. No, I did not force this betrothal on either of them. I suggested it to Mance once, but I never went through with it. I sent Val to care for Dalla during her pregnancy, and I sent Robb to rule Winterfell in my stead. I never expected them to…”

“Ah!” Maester Aemon exclaimed. “So, it is true then, they fell in love?”

“Yes. Although I doubt you can fall in love in two weeks.” Ned replied grimly.

Aemon scoffed. “Have you ever fallen in love, Lord Stark?”

“Not with a woman.”

Maester Aemon smiled slightly. “No matter, then you know. Love can strike you at first sight, in a few seconds, days, weeks or months, even years. Lord Stark fell in love with Lady Catelyn after a few years, but his older self fell in love with Lady Ashara in a few hours. Love is…complicated.”

“Well, it matters not how it came to be. The consequences matter now. If Robb had followed his duty…”

“Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty, Lord Stark. What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty compared to the feel of a newborn son in your arms, or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human and the gods have fashioned us for love. It is our great glory, but also our great tragedy.”

Ned nodded.

“Then you suggest I let it go through?”

“I can only give you advice, Lord Stark. Do you care about the boy?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then should his happiness not rank higher in your heart than the requests of those lords in the courtyards?”

“I…but the northern lords will be furious with me. The deal with the wildlings might not go through and then…”

“Life is made of tough decisions, Lord Stark. Sometimes a hard truth is better than a small lie.”

“The lords won’t take this insult.”

“Won’t they? They follow men they respect. Those northern lords followed you here because they respected you. They followed you beyond the wall, and they fought the great enemy. You slew the first Other in ten thousand years, Lord Stark. I doubt their respect for you will die out with a single vow.”

“For me? Perhaps not, but for Robb…”

“The boy will have to prove himself, ‘tis true. He will have to toughen with time, no doubt, but I do believe he will prove he is worthy of the honor you bestowed him.”

Ned nodded again.

“Thank you for your advice, Maester Aemon.”

“Anytime, Lord Stark, now go, I believe you are expected in the Grand Hall.”

Ned closed the door to the Castle’s library and headed straight down the stairs towards the open courtyards, trying to avoid the stares everyone launched at him. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long till he found company, as the heir to the Dreadfort hurried to his side.

“The northerners are waiting, my lord.”

“Thank you, Domeric, I was actually on my way now. How fares your day?”

“Good enough I suppose, although I don’t understand much of what is happening around your son. Shouldn’t the lords respect your decision?”

“They can respect my decision, but that doesn’t mean they won’t forgive, or forget.”

“Well, don’t worry, you might have allies on your side.”

“Allies?”

“My father for starters. He’ll stand with you, although I might have had something to do with it.”

Ned chuckled.

“It’s about your own wildling girl isn’t it?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that information, Lord Stark.” Domeric said, smiling. “But no, I won’t be marrying her anytime soon if that is what you were about to ask.”

“I wasn’t. And the others?”

“The Mormonts will stand with you. So will the Karstarks, it seems Lord Rickard’s eldest daughter has taken quite the interest in one of the wildlings. Don’t remember his name though.”

Ned raised his eyebrows. That was unexpected. So, it seemed some of the lord’s own sons and daughters also considered a union or at the very least, close relationships with the wildlings? This could be interesting. However, he did not have time to dwell on it, as Ned barged into the Great Hall, quickly silencing the room and walking up the stairs to the chair overlooking the room.

“Right.” He said, adjusting the seat. “Now, I have convened you because we have much to discuss.”

“Did you really betroth your eldest son to one of the wildling savages?” cried a voice in the room.

Ned glared at the room, unable to identify the source, but eventually let out a short answer.

“No.”

A small mumble of voices started to be heard, before another voice came out.

“Will they not marry then?”

“They will, I have given my consent.”

Another loud rumble arose in the hall, when finally, someone stood up to back up his words. The large figure was unmistakable, this was the GreatJon Umber.

“Ned, you cannot mean to give your assent to this.” The heavily built man objected “You cannot give the hand of your heir to a wildling.”

“And why not? My son is old enough to choose who he wants to marry, and he chose who he wanted. I didn’t deny him.”

“Because they are the enemy!” Torrhen Karstark called out.

“Your sister seems to appreciate the enemy.” Lady Dacey Mormont retorted, eliciting a small laugh from the audience, making the young Karstark lord red with anger. Rickard Karstark stayed silent.

“Calm down, please.” Ned shouted. “The wildlings were indeed the enemy, but not anymore. Not after you now know what lies beyond the wall.”

“But they were for thousands of years!” another Umber cried out. “You cannot mean to marry your heir to a wildling girl.”

“And now they aren’t anymore, now they’re allies. And what better way to seal an alliance with marriage?”

“This is different!” a Manderly cried out.

“Oh, so marriage with the southerners is alright, but marriage with the wildlings isn’t? The wildlings at least are northern.”

“Listen, Ned.” The GreatJon continued. “What marriages have the Starks arranged with another northern house? I can’t recall any since the days of your grandfather. And now your heir is married to a wildling of all things?”

“Oh, by the fucking Old Gods!” Ned couldn’t be bothered at this point. He wanted to settle it peacefully, but now he was done and he couldn’t stop his rant. “We are on the precipice of war with an enemy we thought gone for thousands of years, an enemy you fought and nearly lost to. The wildlings are on the other side of this wall, ready to add up to the army of the dead if we do not help them through this damn pack of ice, the watch is undermanned and underarmed, the ironborn are rebuilding the iron fleet, the southern kingdoms are on the breaking point of civil war and all you lords want to talk about IS THE CHOICE OF A BRIDE FOR MY SON?”

The room went silent for a moment but Ned wasn’t having any of it and continued.

“Well let me tell you that if we don’t fucking start preparing for something else than blabbering about who my son weds and why the dead will be over the wall and there won’t be anyone to marry to anyone ever again! You want a northern match, fine, I’ll give you one! When Rickon comes of age he will have to chose a bride, and he will choose whomever he wishes, provided she is from a noble house of the north. I’ll give him Castle Dunkirk on Sea Dragon Point, which I’m reinforcing in case of ironborn raids on the Stony Shore. Fucking hells, I don’t know what this Brandon the Burner thought when he decided to burn our fleet, leaving us unprotected to the ironborn, but I’d like a few words with him. Anyways, Rickon will marry into the North, he’ll have a keep and be the founder of a Stark cadet branch. And just because I’m nice, I’ll also betroth the first son of Robb and Val to a northern house as well. Now does this settle this issue and can we move on to more pressing matters?”

The room fell silent again as a small rumbling made its way through the room, but eventually most voices came into a single one of agreement: “Aye.”

The GreatJon then rose up to speak once more.

“Would you swear it on the Old Gods and the New?”

“Aye, I would.” Ned answered. “But remember, Robb is the Lord of Winterfell in my stead. Any insubordination to him is insubordination to me. Are we clear?”

The Umber lord nodded.

“Then I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do swear on the Old Gods and the new that when my son Rickon Stark comes of age, he will be able to chose his bride from a northern house and I shall give him Castle Dunkirk on Sea Dragon Point for him and his descendants to keep. I also promise that Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell and Lady Val Stark’s first-born son and heir to Winterfell will be able to chose his bride from the northern houses or will be betrothed to a lady of a northern house when he comes of age. This I swear on the Old Gods and the New.”

There was a mumble in the room, that eventually quieted down, and Ned spoke once again.

“Right, now to more pressing matters. As you know, we will definitely NOT let the wildlings become fodder for the army of the dead. You’ve seen them, fought them and killed them. If we add a hundred to two hundred thousand more corpses to their army, then we are just asking to die.”

Another rumble was heard in the room, but most lords nodded. Ned knew that although they held no love for the wildlings, the prospect of having to fight more dead men wasn’t the greatest one.

“Good, as such they will be allowed past the wall to settle in the Gift and New Gift. They will follow our northern laws but be allowed to keep their customs provided these do not interfere with northern laws. Reaving and pillaging will of course be illegal, and I expect you lot to inflict fair and equal justice in your lands if it occurs, be it a wildling attack on your people or your people’s attack on the wildlings. The Gift and New Gift territories are territories of the Watch, but also of the Crown, as such any attack on settlers on these lands is an attack against the Crown and I will not stand for it.”

Another rumbling was heard but quickly died down as Ned spoke once more.

“Finally, the wildlings will turn over half their gold to the lords having been hit the most by their raids. This means houses Umber, Karstark, Mormont, the mountain clans and others. This gold should help you be more lenient towards the free folk and help you strengthen your castles. Furthermore, each clan will provide one hostage for you. I do NOT want them mistreated. They are to be considered you would consider a foster child, and harm should only come to them if the clans disobey the laws of the north and even then, the disobedience should have to be grave enough to warrant retribution. Good, now that this issue is settled, let us talk about the state of the wall. Lord Commander?”

“Yes, Lord Stark?” The Old Bear asked.

“How many castles are operational?”

“Three. The Shadow Tower, Castle Black and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.”

“Clearly not enough to hold back an assault. The wildlings will help hold ten more castles along the wall: Westwatch, Greyguard, Icemark, the Nightfort, Deep Lake, Queensgate, Oakenshield, Sable Hall, Long Barrow and the Torches. Your men.” Ned turned to the Northern lords “Will reinforce the Night’s Watch in the three castles they hold and your builders and carpenters will help put the castles back in fighting shape.”

“We will have reinforcements from the capital.” Lord Bolton said in a whisper, handing a scroll to Lord Commander Mormont.

“Heh, it seems the new Hand has done quite the work.” The Old Bear chuckled. “Randyll Tarly is sending us a few corrupt gold cloaks that chose the Wall over death, and a few corrupt bureaucrats. It seems King’s Landing is clearing itself out.”

“We’ll need more than a few dozen recruits to bolster the Wall and the North.” Ned said grimly. “Ranger Benjen, how many dead men do we hold?”

“Only ten I’m afraid. They are hard to contain.”

“Hard to contain?” Lord Manderly asked. “What do you mean, shuffle them in a box and be done with it!”

“They break out of the box unfortunately.” Benjen said. “They can even break through stone.”

Lord Manderly sat back down, as Rickard Karstark spoke.

“Then how do we send the bodies south?”

“We’ve found that the cages my br…Lord Stark sent from Winterfell can hold them. But some of them are in a bad state and can only carry body pieces, not an entire body.” Benjen answered.

“How about an Iron cage, like one for prisoners?” Lord Helman Tallhart asked.

“This could work.” Benjen answered. “Although precautions would need to be taken and the wights chained properly. However, it would take time to make cages light enough to be carried by horse or carriage.”

“How long?” Ned asked.

“A month if we have all the materials here to make ten iron cages.” Replied first builder Yarwyck.

“That’s too long. But it’s not like we have a choice. Right, Benjen, you said we could carry body parts in the cages? How many do we have?”

“Only three I’m afraid.”

“Right. Can we put the upper half of a body in?”

“From head to middle of the chest, yes.”

“Do it. Lord Manderly?”

“Lord Stark?” the man reacted.

“Have your most trusted men send a cage to King’s Landing as soon as you are able. I want Robert to know what we are facing.”

The man nodded.

“It will be done.”

Ned then continued.

“The second one we’ll place at the Gates of Winterfell, to warn people of what the watch is facing. And we’ll put the Third on the port of White Harbour.”

Benjen nodded in agreement, and Ned continued.

“How long do you think it will take for the cages to then make their way from Castle Black to Oldtown or Sunspear?”

“I’d say four to six months by road if we stop in every castle on the way.” First Builder Yarwyck answered.

“Well that leaves us plenty of time to prepare on our own then.” Ned replied before turning back to the assembly present. “My lords, fifteen years ago I asked you to follow me in a war against the Mad King, and we won. Today I ask you to follow me in another war. I don’t know when it will come, or where it will come from, the southern kingdoms are on the brink of war and you know what lies in the north. But I want you to be ready, and to follow House Stark when needed. Will you heed the call?”

The GreatJon stepped forward.

“Aye, we will follow House Stark as we have done for thousands of years, wherever you may command us to go, Ned. You have House Umber, now and always. We follow the Starks!”

Lord Rickard unsheathed is blade and rose it up in the air.

“You saved my life at the Elk Pass, Ned. I can only be thankful for what you did that day, and I will follow you and the Starks in all the wars to come. My blade is yours, now and always. We follow you!”

And every lord then unsheathed their blade, raising it up high in the air and the shouts drowned the room then.

“We follow the Starks!”

“The North Stands!”

“We are the North!”

“Now and always!”

And as Ned sat back down, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever came next, at least the North was united and ready to fight against it. But as he slowly sunk back into his chair, a realisation dawned on him. If Robert died and the realm finally cracked open, would the northmen really accept the Mad King’s daughter as Queen? That was a question he never asked himself, but that he’d have to ponder. If the realm was to hold, he’d need the dragons, but what price would come with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the last part of Chapter 9! This is the last part before we go on a big time skip (6 months) and we rejoin Sunspear for Part 1/3 of Chapter 10, where things finally start to unfold in the south..


	17. Chapter X, Part 1 - The south calls / Arianne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months have passed in Sunspear, and Arianne has finally won, but that victory comes with a price.  
> Also, smut warning, indicated with /!\

**Chapter X**

**Part I**

**Arianne I**

**Warning: Mild sexual content. Starts and finishes with /!\**

Six months. It had been six months since she'd promised the northerner that she'd have him in her bed by the end of the week, and it had been six months that the Stark boy had managed to avoid all her advances. She'd been intrigued by the Stark boy when she first heard of him coming south, but not much more. However, she had quickly changed her opinions when meeting him in person. Jon Stark was five years younger than her, and Arianne generally preferred older or men more or less her age, but the northerner was different. His hair was as dark as the night, and his eyes were dark grey like the sigil of his house.

He didn't have the cocky attitude of most dornishmen, and rarely smiled, showing nearly no emotions, but when he did, it felt like his smile pierced into her soul. Arianne liked that dark and broody side of him, she'd always imagine a dark and dangerous knight as a consort. He wasn't like Gerold Dayne though, the Darkstar had always that brash and cocky attitude that made Arianne feel wary in his presence. Jon wasn't that type of person, he was rarely brash, and never cocky, much to her uncle Oberyn's dismay, and showed her the respect due to a princess of Dorne, which not a lot of men, even in Dorne, did, and she'd never felt uneasy with him. The Stark boy had another side to him though, one she could see in his eyes. He never revealed much about his life or emotions, and she knew there was a dark side to him, one that she couldn't pierce. What secrets was he holding? What was he keeping from her?

It didn't help as well that he was a deadly fighter. With a sword, not even Gerold Dayne could match him, although his cousin Edric did show promise. Even her uncle had bitten the dust a couple times, and he had started learning how to use a spear. He wasn't as skilled with it, but she expected nothing less from a beginner. Every time one of her lovers hit the ground, the Stark boy would smile slightly, but remained calm every single time, shaking hands with his opponent and bringing him back up. And every single time one of her lovers bit the dust, she found herself wanting him even more.

It had been naturally that she'd invited him into her bed very early on to get the measure of him, but he'd refused and instead left her wanting. Arianne had been flabbergasted, but not that shocked. It was said that northmen were honourable, and although few men had refused her, she always got what she wanted in the end. But not with him. He'd resisted her advances and even teased her back.

She had worried that he liked men, or that he just needed a spike of jealousy to get him to fall right into her arms. As such, she'd laid with Daemon Sand and made a large amount of noise that night to drive her point across, and she was sure it had worked. The next day, Jon wasn't the same, he'd been more tired than usual, but also contradicted in some way, and she thought she had him hooked. But when he didn't come to her room that night and she instead heard the screams of her cousin coming from the room next door, she knew she met her match. Jon even had the gall of asking her if she slept well that night with a smug grin on his face. She'd tried again, but every time Jon parried her attempts to spite him with another blow to her pride.

And with every blow, Arianne found herself to be more and more possessive. Only a week ago she'd wanted to strangle Tyene, who she loved as a sister. What had gotten into her she didn't know, but she couldn't deny the effect the northman had on her. It didn't help that Jon wasn't interested in her body, but instead during their numerous afternoon games, instead asked her about Dorne, about her feelings, her family, and she was surprised he knew a lot about her already.

"I'm an excellent judge of character." He had told her. But she knew there was more to it than that. Northmen weren't known for using spies, so how did he know so much personal things about her? Quickly she found herself confiding in him, and he didn't brush anything she said. Instead he listened intently, and gotten her to think about a lot of things she wouldn't otherwise have cared much about.

"Tell me, Arianne, may I ask, what kind of princess do you wish to be in the future, when you'll be ruling Dorne?" that question had taken her aback then. No one had ever asked her about her birthright, let alone asked her what kind of a ruler she wanted to be.

"I don't know actually. Not like my father, that is for sure." He'd asked why that was and Arianne answered that it was because she felt his father was trying to deny his birthright for one. Jon had chuckled at that.

"What? Do you not see it? I thought you were a good judge of character." She'd asked frustrated. "My father keeps me in Sunspear and only asks I visit him twice a year. I don't rule things here, I just keep guests entertained. Ser Manfrey governs the Shadow City, and Ricasso the castle. Any other matters are handled by my uncle Oberyn directly." She also had told him about the letter she'd read with her father promising Dorne to Quentyn, and Jon had listened through her rant, until she started weeping. He hadn't shied away from embracing her then, and he had held her hand, comforting her.

"You know, I don't think Quentyn wants Dorne."

"How would you know? He's been poisoned by the words of that Anders Yronwood. The man is Criston Cole reborn, he wants to deny me my birthright so that Quentyn may rule."

"I think he doesn't want it. He cannot overthrow you; he barely has the guts to go ask a girl anything, do you really think he'd be capable of asking Dorne to rebel against you?"

Arianne hadn't thought of that. It was true that her brother was reserved, but still, if her father had promised him Dorne then it wouldn't matter.

"Would you rather be ruler of Dorne or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"

The question had taken her aback and she had paused to think for a moment, before shaking her head.

"Be consort to who? One of the Lannister brats? I'd rather throw myself out of the Sun Tower."

"No. Think better."

She'd thought harder, and someone came to mind.

"Viserys Targaryen? But he's on the other side of the narrow sea."

"He's also dead now, I think. But that's not the issue. Did your father ever try to send you across the Narrow Sea."

"I don't…no wait. Once a girl came from Tyrosh, it was then my father had a big argument with my mother, and…"

The realisation had struck her. The girl from Tyrosh was likely important, and since Quentyn already left for Yronwood, there was a good chance the argument between her father and her mother was over sending her to Tyrosh. But how could her father keep this from her? Though, she shook her head again.

"No. I was born for ruling Dorne. The life of a consort, being of only use to the king for whelping children and warming his bed isn't for me."

Jon had smiled then. It wasn't a dull smile, but a kind, genuine one, and he'd laughed.

"I don't think you would. I think you're a ruler. You sell yourself very short Arianne, you are an intelligent woman, much more than you let on. Show this side of you, tell your father you don't want to be a consort, affirm your claim on Dorne."

She'd been too shocked to speak then. No one had ever treated her like the heiress to Dorne, not even some of her closest companions, or if they did, they'd kept their thoughts quiet. Another time, he'd asked her questions about what her plans were for Dorne, and she had answered truthfully every time.

"So, you don't want to be like your father because you think he takes too long to act?" he'd asked.

"Yes. We've been asking for vengeance for Elia and the children for fifteen years now, and nothing has happened. If it were my uncle Oberyn…"

"He'd have declared war on the seven kingdoms and Dorne would have been crushed. No, sometimes, patience is a virtue. Your father has many faults, I concede that, but I very much doubt he wants anything more than to get vengeance for their deaths."

"How would you know that?"

He had shrugged.

"Everyone knows that. Your father is a calculating man, he knows the odds are against him if he tries anything. The realms are as united as could be under Robert, he hasn't had a chance to strike."

She'd eyed him carefully then, but he'd continued.

"But too much patience can lead to you losing your chance to strike. But I'm curious to see how you would react to something. Here, let's take a hypothetical situation. Robert is dead, and so is his son Joffrey. Instead of Arya being sent to marry Trystayne, it's Myrcella."

"But they're…"

"Bastards, yes. But the realm doesn't know. Actually, no. They know but it isn't common knowledge. Tommen is now king and married to Margaery Tyrell, and Cersei Lannister is Queen Regent. The North, the Riverlands and the Vale are in open rebellion and claim Tommen is a bastard of incest. You hold Myrcella in Dorne, and she's betrothed to Trystayne, what do you do?"

She'd pondered over it for a few minutes before answering.

"In this case Myrcella is the rightful queen. We champion her claim and Trystayne sits as her consort, putting Martell blood on the throne once more."

"You're making quite a leap here."

"What do you mean?"

"How do you go from championing Myrcella's claim to her sitting on the Iron Throne?"

"With Dorne's armies…"

"Yes, but consider this. Under Dornish law, Myrcella is the heir, but under Andal law, Tommen is. What makes you think the other kingdoms would just accept this? The Reach and the Westerlands would hold power. These are the two most powerful kingdoms in the realm."

"The Reach are allies, they would never…"

"The Reach were allies during the rebellion, which doesn't mean they'll be allies now, especially since things have changed. Here, Margaery Tyrell married Tommen, so the Reach is firmly in the Crown's camp. Now I ask you again, how will you sit her on the Iron Throne?"

"Our words our Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. We have fought and won against the Targaryens twice and twice we've won. Our armies will have no problem breaking the Stags."

"Powerful words indeed, and they're true. Dorne has never bent to the Iron Throne, not until the marriage alliances anyways. But those were different situations. Tell me, Arianne, do you know why Dorne is hated in much of the Kingdoms?"

"Because of our privileges given to us in return for our fealty to the crown."

"Yes, that is part of it. But that's not exactly it. The reason is because you violated one of the most sacred agreements possible, you broke guest rights."

"I don't follow."

"Daeron the Young Dragon won the Dornish War. Dorne might think they've won it, but the truth stands for the rest of the kingdoms, he won. Of course, the Dornish resisted, and many lives were lost trying to hold the place. But the matter remains, Dorne was on the brink of defeat, so Mors Martell, Maron's father, had to go for one last gamble. He feigned submission and he slaughtered Daeron under a banner of truce. Now he didn't gamble mindlessly, but the fact of the matter is, if Baelor hadn't been Baelor but another Aemon the Dragonknight or even Rhaenyra Targaryen reborn, then he'd have finished the job Aegon the Conqueror started and put Sunspear to the torch along with the rest of Dorne for the horrendous crime. But he wasn't, and we all know what happened afterwards."

"So, the rest of the kingdoms hate us because we tried to defend ourselves from an invader?"

"No, they hated you because you slaughtered royalty under a banner of truce with no consequences. That's the equivalent of receiving a whole army host under your roof and then slaughtering them all. No one will ever trust you again, your word will mean nothing and everyone will hate you."

"I still fail to see how this relates to our situation."

"Well, it's simple really. The Reach and the Westerlands can levy two hundred thousand troops, give or take. Let's say half of that is sent North, that leaves a hundred thousand plus any crown and stormlander troops. Dorne holds a fighting force of what, thirty thousand, at best?"

Arianne winced. Indeed, Dorne was the least populous of all the kingdoms, and even with houses Yronwood and Dayne, Dorne could muster a maximum of forty thousand troops, mostly being inexperienced levies. Jon shoom his head.

"Yes, I didn't think so either. What makes Dorne so hard to take is their geographical boundaries. Mountain passes, easy to defend, and deserts which make resupply very difficult. But in an offensive action, Dorne stands no chance. So, you can't put Myrcella on the throne by force, it would be suicide. You need allies. Then if you decide to hold in Dorne, Daeron made many mistakes because of his youth, and Baelor wasn't a military commander in any sense, yet the former still won the war. Now you, as princess of Dorne, would be fighting against Tywin Lannister, Randyll Tarly, Paxter Redywyne and maybe even Stannis Baratheon. Very different men, more experienced, and more willing to go to certain extents in their campaigns if you see what I mean."

Arianne had nodded. She hadn't thought the situation outside their borders was so dire. She'd been raised under the motto "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken" but she realised then that if even two kingdoms allied themselves against Dorne, alone they'd stand little chance against such an opposition.

"Then." He'd continued. "Do you see why patience is a virtue?"

"I see."

"But be careful, sometimes being too patient makes you look weak, or untrustworthy. One must choose the time at which he must strike. Don't be like your uncle, brash and not thinking about the consequences, but do not be like your father either, for if you wait too long, you can lose touch with reality and those whom you love, but you know that part more than I do."

Arianne had nodded, but she'd only been more and more curious. From that day on, Jon had taught her about the other kingdoms, their houses and their customs, their allegiances, their alliances and their history. She'd told him about Dorne and their own customs and houses, and she'd gone to respect Jon more than anyone else.

More than just talking she felt good talking to him every time. They'd laughed, cried and shared memories more times than she could count over the past six months, talking about everything and nothing, about Jon's sister and Arianne's cousins, about the Northern auroras and the Dornish sunrise, about their future and their past. And she'd gotten to like him. She hadn't felt anything for someone as much as she felt for him right now, but time and time again he'd refused to share his bed with her. Today, she finally built up the courage to ask that defining question. As she and Jon discussed once more, she finally asked.

"May I ask you, Jon. I've only been truthful with you, am I wrong?"

"No, you aren't wrong, Arianne."

"Then could you answer two questions for me, as truthfully as possible?"

"Of course."

"Why do you refuse to lay with me?"

"I…"

"Is it because I am too old for you?"

"Of course not."

"Is it because I am not beautiful?"

"You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, Arianne, and you know it."

"Then why do you refuse to? Why do you lay with my cousins or with other women but not with me?"

He sighed.

"In the beginning, I must admit, that I didn't want to bed you because I wanted to prove to you that you could seduce me with your wits and not your body. And you did, I must admit you're one of the most intelligent women I've ever met."

"And I offered you to lay with me a week ago, why haven't you accepted?"

He took in a deep breath, and Arianne was worried for a moment.

"Because I don't want to lay with someone I love that I know won't return it."

His words struck her like a crossbow shot. She'd felt her heart shatter in a thousand pieces then, and she saw a lone tear in his eye.

"Jon…"

"No. It isn't your fault. It's mine. I fell in love with you, I shouldn't have, but you don't choose these types of things. I can understand if you don't talk to me ever again or if you're not comfortable with me. I just didn't want our relationship to change."

"Jon, if there's one person I like more than anyone here it's you."

"You mean it?"

"Of course, I do. I told you I'd only be truthful with you."

He'd stared wide-eyed at her for a few seconds before smiling, a genuine smile that reached deep into her soul.

"Arianne, I…"

"No, don't speak."

She said as she put a finger to his lips. She kissed him then, not one of the kisses she did out of lust, but one of passion, and as she undid her dress, he did not pull away, and Arianne smiled, she had won in the end, just not in the way she expected to.

/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\

As she undid her dress, she felt Jon's hands roam her body, slowly, sensually. She didn't want it to go slowly, and she ripped open Jon's shirt in a quick movement, before untying his breeches. Jon kissed her again, deeper this time, a kiss she never experienced before.

He left her lips, roaming down her neck and onto her chest. She felt his skin rubbing against her naked body, powerless against the wave of pleasure she was feeling as the northman started circling her breasts and moving his way towards her womanhood.

"Don't tease me." She pleaded.

"As you wish, Ari." He said, before his tongue entered her. She arched her back then, pleasure filling her with every move of his tongue. She moaned and begged for more, crying out his name.

"Don't…stop…" she continued to plead.

And he didn't, his movements becoming fasters as he pushed two fingers inside her.

"Fuck!" she cried out. She knew she was close, with tears running down her cheeks. Were those tears of joy? Of pleasure? She didn't know or care. Her world was gone, as she was carried off into something else, a world where nothing mattered but her and him.

She didn't want it to end, but as Jon's thrusts became faster and faster, her moans became louder and louder and with a final shriek she came, waves of pleasure consuming her body.

"Fuck, Jon!" she yelled, as she watched the northman pull out his tongue and fingers from her cunt.

The northman slowly brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked the juices she'd covered them with.

"You taste delicious, Ari." He'd said seductively.

"Care to share it?" she'd asked, and Jon only grinned as he roamed back up her body, his fingers trailing over her chest, before he kissed her again, sharing what was left of her juices with her as she tasted herself upon his tongue.

"No more teasing." Arianne said as she broke the kiss. "I want you. All of you."

"Are you sure?" he'd asked.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life."

He'd kissed her again, his skin and hers meeting once more as they embraced. His hands roamed down her thighs and he finally aligned his manhood with hers. Arianne felt another gash of pleasure overwhelm her as he entered her. Many already had, but this time was different. There was more to it than pleasure, there was passion.

"Ah, fuck, Jon, more, I want more." Ari pleaded as he entered her.

He answered in kind and continued, his cock entering her fully as she moaned into his mouth. He began thrusting into her, for how long she didn't know but with every thrust she'd moaned and cried in pleasure as she felt him filling her with his cock.

"Faster!" she'd cried out between moans, and Jon was quick to oblige, his thrusts becoming more and more rapid as Arianne could barely hold her composure. Once more, she abandoned herself to the pleasure overwhelming her, their moans and groans filling the room as she felt her climax come again.

"Jon!" she cried out as she came. But he didn't stop, he continued thrusting into her and she felt herself lose control.

"Ah…ah…Jon…fuck…I…"

His thrusts inside her walls left her numb, and she instead opted to kiss him again, moaning as their tongues met again. Jon pulled out of the kiss soon enough and it seemed he was on the brink as well.

"Ari I'm going to…"

"Do it! Unleash it in me! I want to feel your hot seed pouring inside of me!" she cried out.

He released it with a groan, and Arianne felt complete, his cum overwhelming her insides as she felt it inside her. He pulled out and Arianne brought two fingers into her cunt, covering them with his seed and licking them dry.

"Arianne that was…"

She held a finger to his lips.

"What did I say? Don't talk. Just do it. Shall we go again? I don't want it to end. I am yours all night long."

He smiled and kissed her again.

/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\

The next morning, she woke up with Jon next to her and after kissing him again, he'd turned and asked her:

"So, what was your second question."

Arianne laughed and thought about it for a few instants, before turning back to him.

"Oh, yes. Tell me, Jon, do you know who your mother is, you never talk about her?"

"Ah." He'd answered, his smile dropping and his eyes looking at the bed sheets. "I'm sorry, I cannot say who it is."

"Why is that? All of Dorne wished to know which of her countrymen managed to forsake Lord Eddard's honour. Is it Ashara Dayne? We all know what happened at Harrenhall."

"Yes, but no. Ashara Dayne isn't my mother."

"Who is it then? And why won't you tell me?"

"I cannot tell you because it will change the way you look at me, and I don't want that. I don't want you to look at me as a different person because of my parents."

She laughed then.

"Jon, I love you. I doubt anything you say could ever make me change my opinion of you, apart from a Lannister perhaps. Is she a Lannister?"

He shook his head.

"See, then we're fine. So, who was it?"

Jon took in a deep breath before speaking in a small voice, almost a whisper but loud enough that Arianne still heard it.

"Lyanna Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we are now six months later and things are about to accelerate but I needed to put in this chapter as transition. Yes it can come as quite off but I wasn't going to put 3 chapters of Arianne/Jon discussion, this isn't a ship fic and the plot does have to advance at some point. And yes, Arianne/Jon is endgame, and yes, I do hate how most fics transformed Arianne into someone who doesn't care about anything and only wishes to be queen show Margaery-style, so I had to set things right. Love it, hate it, that's the way it is, sorry for anyone that is disappointed with the pairing. As it stands, this chapter can come off as boring and I can understand that, but since it is my first fanfic, I wanted to experiment with different styles of writing. Anyways hope you enjoyed it nonetheless, and next time we go to Last Hearth as Ned gets disturbing news from King's Landing and the Rock, and Part 3 we reunite with Robb as he struggles to keep the North together.  
> Two more things, one if anyone has a timeline of events happening at the same time in the books, it would be quite nice, I'm having trouble keeping tabs on where Daenerys is. Two, I'm scaling back the number of updates from three par week regularly to at least one per week. Researching other subjects does take a while and I have other projects to attend to, and due to the lack of popularity this fic has, it has dropped in priority (worry not, I haven't lost motivation either).


	18. Chapter X, Part 2 - The south calls / Eddard IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned gest disturbing news from the south

**Chapter X**

**Part II**

**Eddard IX**

Last Hearth certainly wasn’t Winterfell. It had a certain charm to it to be sure, but the castle was much smaller and less defended than the seat of House Stark. Thankfully, this was being remedied to. Thanks to help sent from the capital, the Riverlands and the Vale, builders have flocked to the North and as the Wall was being reinforced, Northern efforts were set on Bear Island and Last Hearth in case of a breach in the Wall. As such, the walls were being strengthened, and trenches erected. Still, it was a far cry from Winterfell’s walls and defensive capabilities.

Ned hadn’t seen Winterfell since Robb’s marriage, and to be fair, he hadn’t regretted it. He’d toured the North, from White Harbor to the Dreadfort and from Karhold to Last Hearth. He’d also overseen the construction of Castle Dunkirk, on Sea Dragon Point, as a measure of warding off any Ironborn raids on the Stony Shore and Torrhen’s Square, and with Rickon setting to inherit it, getting help to build it hadn’t been problematic.

And well, Ned looked proud of himself. The halls of Last Hearth were bustling with activity, and the tensions that existed a couple months ago seemed to have dissipated somewhat. Added to this, the Iron Cages were on their way south, and Ned had received word from King’s Landing. Robert had pledged his full support after half the court supposedly “shat their pants in front of the dead man”. Robert was due to send a fighting force north soon enough, and his brother Stannis had stopped brooding on Dragonstone, where he’d been residing since Tarly took over as Hand, and went to the capital to organize the logistics of sending shipments North, most notably of dragonglass.

Ned had counted on his allies in the Riverlands and the Vale, who also promised support, but this was proving to be a slugfest. The Riverlands were still dealing with Westerlander “bandits” and as such couldn’t spare men, and apart from the Royces, no one was communicating in the Vale, an issue he’d had to tackle soon enough. He’d hoped Lysa Arryn would see reason with the dead man he’d sent to the Eyrie, but the woman had called it a mummer’s farce and laughed the Nights’ Watch off. It seems Baelish’s death – or rather execution – wasn’t well received by the lady of the Vale, who’d cut ties with basically everyone. Thankfully the other valemen were much more conciliant, and Lord Royce had promised support “whether or not the Lady Tully likes it or not”. He’d hoped the situation would resolve itself, but now he knew he’d have to meddle into it and it wouldn’t be pretty.

No word had come from Dorne or the Reach yet, but at this rate the Iron Cages wouldn’t have gone much further than the Prince’s Pass, and its not like the Night’s Watch gave regular correspondence on their progress either. Soon enough though, he’d hope to get a raven from Highgarden or Oldtown. He’d also hope Jon would be convincing enough to swing the Martells to their side, maybe send a raven to Starfall? They were stony dornish after all, and their sword is named Dawn, too ominous to be a coincidence. He’d have to think over it, Dorne wasn’t his cup of tea, apart from the Daynes and the Martells he knew no other houses, not like it mattered anyways. Dorne was the least populous of the kingdoms, and any help they’d send would be minimal, but every bit counted.

He couldn’t count on the Westerlands though. He knew the cages had reached Casterly Rock but Tywin Lannister was still brooding over his two disgraced children while his heir now was stuck in the North. Not like Tyrion Lannister didn’t enjoy it, he’d found company in White Harbor and had made friends of the Manderlys. He’d also taken the young Mya Stone under his protection, that Robert deemed unsafe in the Vale and had her sent North to Ned’s care before he could find a suitable place to put him, and Ned couldn’t really refuse such an offer with all the help coming.

Ned continued to watch as the builders continued their work on the walls, before he was interrupted by the maester of the castle.

“Sorry, Lord Stark, but there has been news from the capital, from Riverrun and Casterly Rock. It is quite urgent.”

“From the Rock? What has Tywin Lannister done?”

“You might want to read this with your bannermen, my lord.” The maester said as he handed him the four letters.

Ned skipped through them and his heart sank slightly. There it was, words on a page, simple words that meant war would be tearing the Seven Kingdoms apart soon enough. Damn them.

Ned paced quickly to the hall, where the GreatJon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont and Roose Bolton were staying, discussing the next step in the defence of the north. Barging into their conversation he quickly silenced the lot by raising his voice over theirs.

“My lords, come to Lord Umber’s solar. Now.”

The lords eyed each other before turning back to Ned, Lord Karstark even trying to speak, but Ned cut him off before any words could leave his mouth.

“Did I stutter? I said now.”

The group followed him to Lord Umber’s solar. Not as large as Winterfell’s but still sufficiently comfortable to host the lords and himself comfortably. Once they’d all been seated, Lord Karstark finally got the words out of his mouth.

“Ned, what is happening?”

“Ravens is what’s happening. Ravens bringing words from King’s Landing and ravens bringing words from Casterly Rock.”

“Casterly Rock?” said Roose Bolton, surprised. “Didn’t the Old Lion give no news since the incident?”

“Well he has now.” Ned answered. “But first, the raven from King’s Landing. My lords, King Robert has been injured in a hunting accident.”

“A hunting accident? Three moons before the wedding?” Maege Mormont reacted.

Ah yes, there was the issue of the wedding. After negotiations handled by Robert’s youngest brother Renly and much to the dismay of Stannis Baratheon, Robert had agreed to remarry to sire an heir. Robert would be wed to Margaery Tyrell, the rose of Highgarden, more than twenty years her junior. Most of the lords had frowned at that, but Mace Tyrell was an ambitious man, and seeing his daughter as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, well…that was an offer you couldn’t really pass on. And the wedding was supposed to be in three moons, with Ned supposed to be in attendance, mostly in order to rouse up more support for the Wall.

And now this had gone to dust. Robert was likely dying, seeing the tone of Stannis Baratheon’s letter, and Stannis had seized power in the capital. His brother Renly and the Tyrells managed to flee to Storm’s End, and Tarly, well…

“Apparently so. But Stannis isn’t optimistic about the chances of his grace making it out.” Ned continued. “He might have a few days left to live, if he hasn’t died by the time the raven came here, since the raven got lost in a storm.”

“And what of the Rock?” Lord Umber asked, concerned.

“Tywin Lannister has risen in rebellion against the Iron Throne. He intends to place Tommen Baratheon on the throne as the rightful son of King Robert.”

“Wait a minute. Tommen Baratheon?” the Greatjon asked. “Hasn’t he disappeared while being transferred to Riverrun for fostering?”

“Well we know now what really happened.” Roose Bolton said with a sly smile.

“Wait a minute, but King Robert isn’t dead. When did he send the letter?” Rickard Karstark continued.

“I’m not sure.” Ned answered. “But I have a feeling Tywin knew this was going to happen. His creature Pycelle probably assured Tywin he’d die; truth is I don’t know. In any case Stannis has declared Tywin Lannister an enemy to the crown and sent Tarly to confront him in battle, which brings us to the third raven.”

Ned put another raven on the table, this one sealed with the sigil of the Tullys.

“A force of thirty thousand has crossed the Golden Tooth. Tywin marches on the capital.”

“Thirty thousand? Tarly doesn’t stand a chance unless he has all of the Stormlands and the Reach behind him!” Rickard Karstark exclaimed.

“Exactly.” Ned answered. “That is what’s bothering me. Stannis only granted Tarly his own retinue and a few swords from the Crownlands. No Stormlords. Only people of Horn Hill, Rosby and Duskendale.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.” Maege Mormont replied.

“How did the ravens come one by one; how did we not receive news earlier?” the Greatjon bellowed.

“There has been terrible weather across the neck and at White Harbour the past moon. The ravens couldn’t get through until recently.” Roose Bolton answered silently.

“In any case, now we know. Robert is dead or dying. Tarly is grossly unprepared, the Baratheon brothers are ready to kill each other, and Tywin marches on the Riverlands and the capital.” The Greatjon muttered. “The question is, what do we do now?”

Ned pondered the question for a few minutes before slamming his fist against the table.

“Damn these southerners and their games. There’s going to be a fucking war up north and instead of uniting against the threat beyond-the-wall they’re going to tear each other apart.” Ned sighed. “We don’t really have a choice; we need the realm to be united or we will lose this war.”

“Then whose claim will we champion?” Rickard Karstark asked.

“No one’s.” Ned answered, drawing a surprised reaction from the group. “As far as I am concerned, Robert is still king, and the first raven, despite being Stannis’ writing, is damn well Robert’s words. Until we have reliable news of his death, we serve him. As such we treat Tywin Lannister as an enemy to the crown, and we let the others rip each other apart if they wish.”

“What do we do, then? We can hardly spare men.” The Greatjon said.

“We have the horse regiments in Winterfell. That’s two thousand or so men, give or take. Add in the engineers that’s another thousand, maybe more. With the wildlings holding the Stony Shore and manning the castles of the wall, we can spare maybe, what? Six to seven thousand infantry?” Ned answered.

“Hum.” Lord Karstark grumbled, “I’d have to go over the numbers, but we might be able to assemble ten thousand men. But in what goal?”

“The Tullys are allies. At the very least we need to prove we are dutiful allies and they’ll come to our help when we’ll need it as well.” Ned answered. “We will need the knights of the Vale as well.”

“Good luck talking to the Lady of the Vale. Since her precious Baelish has been dealt the king’s justice, she’s gone half-mad.” Roose Bolton shook his head.

“Which is why I’ve asked lord Royce to meet. I need a solution to the whole Vale mess and I won’t wait much longer. The time for words is gone, the time for action is now. Lady Lysa” Ned made sure to emphasize that name, citing neither Tully or Arryn, “has taken away every opportunity we’ve given her. It’s time we stabilize the Vale and renew the alliance. But that’ll come later. Let us focus on the task at hand. Lord Rickard, how much time will it take for the troops to converge on Moat Cailin?”

Rickard Karstark thought for a few moments.

“Maybe two moons. We have the banners called already, and we can levy troops to hold the castles. We’ll need the experienced men in the army going south. We’ll just need to organize the supply lines.”

“See that it is done. You’ll leave for Winterfell as soon as possible. I’ll give you command of the cavalry.”

“Thank you, Ned.”

Ned nodded and turned to the others.

“Umber, you have command of the foot. I’ll transfer general command of the troops to my son Robb. It is time for him to make amends for his past mistakes.”

Umber was about to voice a protest but Ned cut him off.

“Before you say anything, yes the boy is green, but he has a good mind for warfare.” That wasn’t a lie, Robb was quite the history buff, especially when it came to military history. He knew a lot of battles and a lot of words that made Ned’s head spin, the decision is only logical. “I cannot go, I need to lead the men here, in the war to the North. But there must be a Stark to lead them, and I can’t really find another son out of thin air, unless you want Rickon to march south. I expect you to counsel him wisely, and treat him as if it was me commanding.”

Lord Umber stood up with Lord Karstark.

“Ned, you know since the whole marriage affair, I don’t have a lot of love for the boy.” The Greatjon answered. “But you’re right, he is a Stark and there is much to be done in the north still. I cannot promise to like the boy but I’ll promise to counsel him wisely.”

“Aye. I do too.” Lord Karstark answered. “I owe you my life Ned, I think most of us here do. I’ll follow your commands and we’ll break the lion. However, please do not fault me for not getting to like your boy. But as we’ve said, we are bound to House Stark, and we’ll serve House Stark.”

“I expected nothing less from you, my lords, you best prepare for the journey.” Ned answered.

“One thing though, Ned, if I may.” The Greatjon asked. “In the case that Robert is dead, whose claim do we champion?”

Ned froze for a minute. In truth, he’d thought about that for the past six months or so. What if Robert died? But then the wedding announcement happened and he’d pushed it out of his mind. Still, he wouldn’t support Renly that was for sure. He was a skilled politician and good in financial matters, but the boy didn’t have much support, even less in the line of succession, where he came after Stannis. His whole claim based on being Lord of the Stormlands, Ned didn’t really want to support him.

Stannis wasn’t the greatest of choices. Of course, Robb had told him that book Stannis wasn’t show Stannis, book Stannis was better at compromise, blah, blah, blah. Well, a religious fanatic is still a religious fanatic and he didn’t want Stannis’ first order as king to manage to spark the flame for a war of religion the realm certainly did not need. Still though, he was the better claimant, but he’d already turned to the Red God if rumours from the capital were to be believed, and that was bad enough. Then there’s the problem of Sansa, if she’d been betrothed to Willas, she’d be sent to marry the Lord Paramount of the Reach, an alliance he desperately needed for the grain they were sending. As king, Stannis would probably enact his revenge on the Tyrells and install the Florents as Lords Paramount, and that was an issue Ned didn’t need to deal with either.

Then there was Daenerys Targaryen. By now he’d calculated she had likely entered Qarth, but whether or not the whole shenanigans with the warlocks happened or not, he wasn’t sure. Ned knew she’d make a good queen with the appropriate guidance, and as such had a basis of a plan that he’d forwarded to Theon. He’d placed a lot of hopes in his friend and he could only hope it’d work, but again. What if it didn’t? What if Daenerys inherited the madness of her father or was shuffled down that path by outside influences? Then he’d have gambled and lost all the same. But she had dragons, and he damn well needed them for the fight to come. In any case, he wouldn’t kneel before her. The northern lords wouldn’t accept it, and hell, he wouldn’t accept it either. It’s too much of a risk, and he knew he couldn’t face the ire of the northern lords again, not with what was coming. Daenerys wouldn’t take no for an answer, and it had taken careful planning with Theon to draft something she could accept, but then again, what if she didn’t? Ned sighed, he’d cross that bridge when it came to it, and hoped Theon could calm the impulses of the dragon queen.

“No one.” Ned answered the Greatjon bluntly. “Only treat a royal order when it is signed by Robert Baratheon, first of his name, titles titles. And even then, take it with extreme caution. If Robert dies, then I’ll take a decision and inform you as soon as possible. But right now, the first priority is to defend the Riverlands, and relieve the Siege of Riverrun. Tywin won’t bypass it, he can’t, it holds too much strategic value between Casterly Rock and King’s Landing. With the riverlanders your host could be large enough, and Tarly’s three thousand men or so will also be a welcome addition.”

The two men nodded and took their leave. Ned then turned to Maege Mormont.

“Lady Maege, I trust you’ll wonder why I’m not sending you south, in truth I have another mission for you.”

“Which one would that be, my lord?”

“I want you to help defend the Stony Shore. Balon Greyjoy still resents me for the role I’ve played in bringing down his rebellion, and no doubt he’ll try to come back at me and take advantage of the chaos to reave the northern coast. I want you to train the wildlings to be ready, and well if they don’t, we’ll still have a good reserve force.”

“Let me guess, Lord Stark, you sent those two away because they would object to you arming the wildlings more than they already are?”

“Yes, but I trust you haven’t got the same mindset, was I wrong?”

She shrugged. “No. Ain’t got much problem with the free folk, much more with the Ironborn though. Won’t say no to some help kicking the squids off my bloody shores.”

“Good, I’ll give you the resources you need.”

“House Mormont will want to fight in your war south though, Lord Stark. I’ll send my Dacey with your host and three hundred Mormont men. We fight with the strength of four mainland northerners.”

“Then the Lannisters stand no chance” Ned smiled. “I’d be delighted to have your men and women in my host.”

Lady Maege nodded and excused herself out of the room, but not before Ned had asked her to send the Maester in. He needed to write ravens, one to Winterfell, and another to Moat Cailin. The Mormont leader out of the room, this only left Roose Bolton with Ned. His presence always made him uneasy, but Ned had grown accustomed to it.

“Now Lord Bolton, I also wish you to stay here. You’ve proven yourself a valuable commander and I’d like you to keep overseeing the reinforcement of Last Hearth and Bear Island.”

More like I’m not letting you south of the Neck or anywhere close to Tywin Lannister you treasonous fuck. No, he’d be kept north, where Ned could keep tabs on him. What was that saying again? Keep your friends close but enemies closer?

“Thank you, Lord Stark. It would be my pleasure.”

Ned turned to him again. He knew the man was intelligent and cunning, and likely knew a lot about the south. He knew the northerners didn’t use spies, but during this time, he discovered the Boltons had a small network in the south, and instead of reprimanding the leech lord, Ned had encouraged him, citing the need for information of things brewing south being critical for the future. More like Ned wanted tabs to be kept on all the major lords and Roose knew it but that was beside the point.

“If there’s anything else, Lord Stark, may I take my leave?” Roose Bolton nearly whispered as he got up.

“Actually.” Ned said, pouring himself and the Bolton lord a cup of ale. “I want you to inform me, I want to know everything you and your spies know about a certain place and a certain family.”

“Which family would that be?” Roose Bolton answered, surprised.

Ned smiled, before answering, “House Velaryon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well things finally accelerate in the south, and Ned is quite lost as to what is happening. This is normal, he's only recieved four letters and with the time it takes for ravens to fly, events would have gone by very fast, so many things are still up in the air. Anyways hope you enjoyed this chapter, and we will soon conclude Chapter 10 by returning to Winterfell and Robb, who has more than a single reason to be happy.


	19. Chapter X, Part 3 - The south calls / Robb VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb gets ready for war

**Chapter X**

 **Part III**

 **Robb VII**

  
The courtyard of Winterfell bustled with activity. Men and horses from all corners of the north had answered the Tully’s plead for help, and although little could be spared from the impending threat in the north, Ned had managed to rally a little over eleven thousand troops in Winterfell, a far cry from what the North could actually raise.

Robb continued to watch as men poured in and out of the Wolf Gate, their voices barely managing to drown out the clattering of weapons in the forges and the sound of horses moving in and out. He didn’t expect to be put in this position, but he understood the reasons behind Ned’s decision to put him in charge of the armies of the North.

He’d been on thin ice ever since his marriage to Val, he’d been blinded by love and failed to see the political consequences of his actions. He’d been mad at canon Robb for being an idiot to marry Jeyne Westerling without seeing the consequences of his actions, but ironically, he’d created a similar situation for himself, or close enough to it anyways. At least this time he wasn’t betrothed when he decided to marry, but he hadn’t been forced by honor to marry Val either.

Robb sighed. At least there would be no Red Wedding for him. The ceremony was brief, and although Val didn’t understand the reasons behind such a ceremony, she’d accepted saying the vows in front of the heart tree nonetheless. There wasn’t much of an audience, not like he needed one anyways, but both Ned and Theon were there. Ned was pissed that Robb had put him on the spot like this, but wished him good luck nonetheless. Theon just shrugged and wished him luck, laughing about the fact that he’d never expected him to be married during his lifetime. A shame Jon couldn’t attend, but he understood that the journey to and from Dorne just wouldn’t be worth it.

But now his reputation had taken a huge hit, with most people calling him the wildling prince and being very close to the line of insubordination at some points. It really only was Ned’s actions beyond-the-wall that saved him from disinheritance, and now he had to make up for it big time. He’d tried during his tenure as Lord of Winterfell to effectively manage the Stark lands and vassals, but all the important decisions went through Ned anyways, so it didn’t change much. He did manage to sway some opinion back to his side as he gave justice to wildlings and northerners alike during the resettling of the free folk on Stark lands.

Robb had been happy though; he was finally with a woman who enjoyed being with him and he with her. His times with Val were the happiest times he’d experienced since he left his family all those years ago, and now he’d learnt that he would be a father soon. It hadn’t taken much time for Val to become pregnant with Robb’s child, and she was expecting to deliver in about three months. Robb normally would be very stressed on the thought of having a child, but his time with Dalla’s child, whom the wildling “queen” named Ned in honor of the man who basically saved their lives, made him reconsider. This and also the fact that Ned stressed that Robb needed an heir soon as well, in order to fulfil the promise he’d made to the northern lords of having Robb’s son marry a northern woman.

Robb didn’t like to dictate who his son should marry, and would rather let him choose, but once more he didn’t really have a lot of say in the matter, that much was clear. So, he’d been forced to accept and hope that with a son coming, his future rule and personal safety would both be solidified. One could only hope.

And now, Robb had been put in command of the northern armies marching south to aid the Riverlands. He’d wondered why Ned chose him, but leaving the “wildling prince” north was just a bad political move and the northerners trusted more in Ned than in him. As such, Ned had to stay in the north to keep the fragile peace between the wildling settlers and the northerners, lest the situation plunge into civil war, which of all things they didn’t need right now. That and the fact that Ned was utterly terrible in all matters regarding warfare, and he’d need more than a few books about past events to be able to put him in charge of an army against an enemy that can actually think and doesn’t rely on running at you until you die to achieve its goals. For that, Robb was better suited, he’d been a keen history buff and knew how warfare worked and different tactics used by different armies. He just wished that he could have YouTube back for a moment to go check some Kings and Generals or some BazBattles videos to catch up, but for now the old dusty tomes on the wars in the Riverlands and the Stormlands would have to do. If Robb could win glory in battle, this might encourage the Northerners to trust him more as well, so he could only hope he wouldn’t shit the bed entirely.

Robb turned away from the courtyard for a moment, heading back the stone halls to his room. The war council was about to start, and he needed a few moments with Val before leaving her for a long period of time. He’d be disappointed to not be there for the birth of his firstborn, but he had a duty to the North, and a debt to pay. He scurried off to his – or well, Ned’s but he repurposed it into his – room, where he found Val waiting for him.

He kissed her, before sitting on the bed next to her, roaming his hand into her blond hair, smiling, before he looked down as that smile disappeared.

“Val, I…” he started but was quickly interrupted.

“No excuses, Robb.” She’d said bluntly. “I know you have to go to war, and I know you cannot refuse. However, I made a vow before your tree and before the Old Gods, then I made another to you. Wherever you go, I go.”

Robb looked at her in shock.

“Val, you can’t…you’re pregnant, I cannot let you out of Winterfell…”

“Oh, so I’m a prisoner now?” she scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Of course not.” Replied Robb.

“Then I go where it pleases me to go. And I want to go with you.”

“It’s too dangerous, Val, think of the babe…”

Val laughed. “We free folk have been on the move our whole life, you really think being pregnant stops us from moving around? You’re dead wrong. And we don’t need your fancy castles to give birth. My own mother gave birth to me under a pine tree in the Frostfangs with only her husband as help as they’d gotten lost in a blizzard. I think I’ll manage just fine.”

Robb shook his head.

“There’s no way I’m convincing you otherwise, is there?”

“None. I’m coming with you, young wolf, whether you like it or not.”

Robb sighed.

“Fine, but on two conditions.”

“Name them.”

“First, you do not get to attend the war councils.”

“Why not?” Val interrupted, slightly irritated.

“Some people already think you’re a witch whispering into my ear, I’m not going to feed the fire with those rumours, not mentioning not many northern lords would like to see you there.”

Val grumbled.

“Aye, fine. Not like they’re pleasant folks anyways. And the second?”

“No fighting. Once our son is born, you don’t get to ride into battle. I’m not putting you at risk.”

Val sighed.

“Shame, I wanted to see the look on the southrons’ faces as they’d been killed by a woman.”

“I’m sure the Mormonts will manage that just fine.”

Val nodded and Robb kissed her again, but this time, they were interrupted by a loud banging on the door.

“Who is it?” Robb asked, surprised, as he and Val weren’t expecting anyone and the war council wasn’t for another hour or so.

“It’s the one and only Tormund! May I come in?”

Robb turned to Val, who looked just as confused as he was.

“Come in.” Robb urged

The door creaked open revealing Tormund’s massive figure, a massive grin on his face as he stepped forward, his white beard having grown even longer since the last time Robb had seen him.

“Tormund, old friend, what brings you here?” Val asked.

“Ah, Val, good to see you’re doing well. Hope you can give him a babe soon to make you both happy, you deserve it.”

“Cut to the point, tall-talker.” Val interjected before he could get any further.

“Right, right. Well me and a few folks heard you southerners were marching to war against other southerners and me and a few other of the free folk decided to help out a little.”

Robb blinked. This wasn’t a situation he was willing to diffuse, but to make sure he understood right, he asked:

“So, you want to fight with us?”

“Aye.” The tall man answered “We owe your father and yourself our lives for letting us through this wall. The least we can do is fight for you. Me and a few other of the free folk managed to round up a good two thousand men willing to fight. We don’t need no pay; we’ll be glad to pay you back for what you’ve done for us.”

“Listen, Tormund. I appreciate your offer, I really do.” Robb pleaded. “But I can’t do that. I’ve been trying to disprove the nickname most northerners give me, the “wildling prince” they call me now. If I allow you to join my forces, what will happen to my reputation?”

Tormund raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t seem to be a man that cares about reputation.”

“You’re right.” Robb answered. “I don’t. But if I’m going to keep the north together, I need to manage appearances, and calling on a thousand free folk to help isn’t going to help that. And even if I let you, you know the big man, seven feet tall, fists large as hams and dark hair?”

“The one that looks at me funny? Aye.”

“Well his name is the Greatjon Umber and he’ll be in charge of the foot, which you will be a part of then. He used to have a cousin, once. A girl. She was his uncle Mors’ daughter. She was taken by wildlings and no one has seen her since. They say she and the Greatjon were inseparable. What do you think he’ll do to your men? I’m betting on putting you in the vanguard.”

“Let him, we’ll show him that one man of the free folk fights with the strength of five southerners!”

Robb sighed.

“You are a persistent lot, but I can’t summon you since you aren’t Stark men and since you volunteered the Greatjon would actually likely just tell you to fuck right off.”

“Wait!” Val called out. “You cannot summon them as they aren’t Starks, but I can.”

“What do you mean?” Robb asked.

“Well, the southerners call me the southern princess. We can just say that I summoned my bannermen, and they heeded my call. After all, the Starks have an alliance with the free folk, what good is an alliance if you cannot call on your men?”

Robb nodded.

“Aye, could work. But if that happens, I won’t have any other choice than putting you under Lord Umber’s command, Tormund, would you accept your people just being fodder in the vanguard?”

Tormund waved his hand.

“Bah. It’s their vanguard that’ll be fodder for us, and in any case, we’ll be proud to die for you and your father.”

“I don’t think the North deserved your perseverance, Tormund.” Robb smiled as he and the white-bearded man clasped arms. “Then it’s settled. Go ready your men, we march to the Moat tomorrow. Since you are a commander of the free folk, you’ll be on the war council, the first of which starts in an hour, but please, no outbursts. And be there on time.”

Tormund stifled at that last part but straightened himself.

“Aye, Lord Stark, you have my word.”

And with that, the tall man exited the room through the same wooden door he came through, leaving Robb and Val alone once more.

Robb sighed and he slumped on the bed.

“Oh gods, I am not looking towards that war council meeting.”

Val looked him in the eyes before clasping both his cheeks, not letting his gaze escape hers.

“If you are scared of the fancy lords, then don’t be. You are their commander, you tell them what to do, not the other way around. You are a wolf, Robb, act like a wolf, be a wolf. Do not let them tread on you, show your iron side. Stop putting on this reserved face” Val said seriously. “You are a Stark. Let the wolf side of you shine. These men, these northern lords, they seem to be like the free folk, they learn to follow and respect men that take charge and stand up to them. Do that, take command, take control, stand up to their decisions and do not give into them if you don’t agree with their fancy words.”

Robb chuckled and saw his confidence boost once more. He kissed Val on the cheek, before smiling back at her.

“Thank you, Val.” He embraced her before clearing her braid. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Val answered. “Now go and put them in their place, Robb Stark.”

Robb Stark smiled and left the room. Although he hated to admit it, Val was right. The northerners wouldn’t respect or follow him unless he showed strength and resolve. He couldn’t appear weak, not now, and not ever. So far, he’d let Ned fight his battles for him, but now that he wasn’t there, he had to stamp his own authority on his soldiers. And if he didn’t, then the war effort would be doomed from the start. _If soldiers lack discipline, then the fault lies within their commander_. Robb scoffed, who knew Tywin Lannister could help him here?

To stamp his authority on the army he needed a target, and an incident. Robb thought deeply as he walked down the grey halls of Winterfell. The incident would of course arise, the wildling host would be enough, but he needed a scapegoat. That’s when it clicked. He’d be doing as canon Robb did, he needed to put the Greatjon down. The big man had a big temper, and would likely try to stamp out Robb’s authority and decision over letting the wildlings in, and then, Robb would take his chance. But how? Then Robb got it. And he needed Grey Wind.

Robb rushed to the courtyard where he’d last seen the direwolf. It was now too big to keep in his room, and stayed in a separate area for himself. The grey direwolf was now the size of a small horse and very intimidating. With so many people in the castle, it was only logical to put him aside, but now he needed his help. Robb rushed to the edge of the courtyard, scouring it for signs of Grey Wind, to no avail. Dammit, where did he go? Right, Robb didn’t have a choice now. He sat on some hay and closed his eyes.

When he reopened them, he found himself trotting around a forest made of weirwoods, with a small breeze shuffling the red leaves of the mystical trees. Behind them, you could hear a small stream flowing in relative silence. That was definitely the Godswood, Robb could recognize the stream out of a hundred, this was where he and Val got married.

He rushed to the small wood, hurrying around the rocks and fallen leaves, when he finally stumbled upon the direwolf, who was lapping at the calm waters of the stream. Robb watched in silence, the scenery and the calm just too perfect to break. He walked up to Grey Wind, sitting beside him as the direwolf’s head rose up from the stream and back at him.

Robb ruffled the top of Grey Wind’s head, earning a small twitch from the direwolf’s ears, and he found himself to be smiling again. He’d gone to the godswood often, if only just to escape the constant annoyance of having to deal with pissed off northern lords or just policing the land in general. He came here to escape, to stare in silence at his past life and what the future held for him. He’d abandoned the idea of seeing his real family ever again, but he still saw their faces in the stream from time to time, and each time, he wept.

This time was no different as he saw the faces line up in the calm waters of the stream, and once more Robb found tears rolling down his cheeks. He was unsure of what to do, what would his family say if they saw him here? Would they be proud, or ashamed, or just indifferent? A moment he could have sworn seeing one of the faces move, but instead, it was Grey Wind who moved to his side, crouching next to him and sitting his head in Robb’s lap, whimpering. Robb smiled amidst his tears and stroked Grey Wind’s fur, gently.

For a moment, he forgot about everything, his past and future gone, there was only this moment, frozen in time, where nothing else mattered. But he also remembered that the past was done and dusted with, his family was only a shadow on the wall, the only family he’d ever have now was Val, and her unborn child. They were family, he repeated to himself. Robb rose up with Grey Wind, and threw a rock in the stream, erasing the faces as he stared once more into the calm waters of the stream. This time, he saw faces, but he didn’t see his old family, he saw Val, and six other faces he did not recognize. This would be his family, Robb thought, this is the future and I won’t let anyone get in the way.

He and Grey Wind left the Godswood side by side, and Robb didn’t look back. He looked in front of him, towards the future, and right now, he had a war council to attend.

Robb rushed through the halls and into the large room, once used as a dining hall, and now used as the command room for a day. It was already packed with quite a few northern lords, some of which were heads of the family, others not. Many had opted to stay behinds in case the Others attacked and he couldn’t blame them. He maintained a cold stare with everyone in the room, not shying away from anyone. There were about fifteen to twenty lords in here, and he intended to set things straight right away. He didn’t have the chance though as the Greatjon spoke first.

“Ah the wildling prince has come to join us.” He boomed. “Well then that explains the presence of your wildling friend over here.” He pointed to Tormund.

Robb didn’t budge, instead walking slowly towards the Umber man before speaking.

“First. You do not get to address me as the “wildling prince”.” Robb said, deadly serious. “My title is Lord Robb, or Lord Stark, whichever you prefer. I am the lord of Winterfell until my father decides otherwise and I will not tolerate any disrespect coming from a subordinate.”

The Greatjon looked shocked and turned to speak, while the audience looked on in silence and stupor, but Robb cut him off by raising his finger.

“Second, Lord Umber. I believe we are between bannermen here, well it turns out my wife has some banners of her own she can call. The free folk have bent the knee to house Stark and as such are permitted to fight in our wars. As my wife is the princess of said free folk, she called on two thousand warriors to fight with the North.”

“Will they fight under the banner of house Stark, then?” Lord Tallhart asked.

“No.” Robb answered. “They’ll fight under their own banner, that of a direwolf and a weirwood tree. They are all on foot and as such will be incorporated into Lord Umber’s command.” He turned at Tormund now, who nodded.

“You expect me to fight with wildlings?” the Greatjon bellowed. “Are you out of your mind boy?”

“I expect you to heed your commander’s orders. You have the whole foot with you, these are men sworn to house Stark, and as footmen they’ll be placed under you.” Robb continued as he stared down the Greatjon. “Or if you’re too proud to fight with wildlings or too craven to command an army, only say the word, and I’ll relieve you of your command, although it will pain me to do so.”

The Greatjon was enraged now.

“You dare insult me?”

“I insult no one, Lord Umber. You are a good commander, my father says. But he has tasked me with the command of the army sent south and I will act as a commander, not someone you can order around.” Robb turned to him with the same emotionless face. “You are here to command, but when with me you are here to counsel. I will heed your counsel if needed but what you did was dispute a superior’s command, do you deny it Lord Umber?”

The Greatjon grit his teeth. All he needed was a little push.

“Well then.” Robb continued. “You know the punishment for disobeying a superior’s command? Know that I’ll do it without any hesitation, Lord Umber. And if by chance you would want to lead your men home after you swore them to me when you entered these gates I’ll ride to Last Hearth myself after dealing with the southerners and not even my father will save you from the fate I give to oathbreakers.”

The whole room sat in silence as the Greatjon visibly twitched. Robb thought he’d failed on pushing him that far, but suddenly the Greatjon roared and unsheathed his sword. Robb kept his stone-cold attitude, but did keep a hand on the wolf pommel of Dark Sister, the ancestral Valyrian steel blade of House Targaryen, but deep down he was very nearly shitting himself. It didn’t take long for Grey Wind to register the threat though, and the direwolf pounced on the Umber lord, making him drop his greatsword, ripping through his right shoulder.

Robb commanded the direwolf to come back to him without a word, and then came face to face with the Greatjon, so close that he could almost feel his breath on his skin. As the Greatjon was held up by two other lords, Robb looked at him dead in the eyes.

“My father always said raising steel on your liege lord or your liege lord’s heir is punishable by death. But no doubt the Greatjon only wanted to pledge his sword to me by laying it at my feet.”

Robb held his breath for a moment that seemed like an eternity, but eventually, the Greatjon started laughing, and Robb couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Well, it seems that you are a damn Stark after all!” the Umber lord cried out. “And I was thinkin’ you were naught but a fool, a craven and a wildling! My sword is yours, Lord Stark, and I’ll be glad to soak it in southerner blood for you.”

“Your loyalty is appreciated, Lord Umber. Do see a maester to treat your wound before we leave though.” Robb smiled and then turned to the other lords who were clearly reeling in from the shock of this scene. “Right, now that this incident is over, let’s start planning our moves.”

Robb moved closer to the table where a large map of the southern kingdoms was placed. He stared at it while the northern lords huddled around the table. Robb then placed carved chess pieces on the board.

“Right.” He said, placing all the pieces on the board. “We have eleven thousand here in Winterfell, including two thousand cavalry. With the free folk and the Northern Engineers this should make our host fifteen thousand strong, not good, but not terrible either.”

He pushed his hands south, past the Moat, placing a trout piece on Riverrun.

“The Tullys hold Riverrun with half of their host. Another ten thousand wait for us under Lord Raymun Darry at Harrenhal, where the Blackfish intends us to join forces, correct?”

Rickard Karstark spoke first.

“Correct. The Tullys are holding in Riverrun and Ser Brynden wants our troops to bolster Darry’s forces at Harrenhal to stop Tywin’s march on King’s Landing and defeat him at the Trident or when he tries to storm the fortress.”

Robb shook his head. Tywin wouldn’t be foolish enough as to try to attack Harrenhal, he’d probably want to meet them in the field where he’d have the upper hand.

“How many troops does Tywin Lannister have?” he asked.

“We’re not sure.” Said Dacey Mormont. “The river lords said thirty thousand two moons ago but we’ve received reports of a force of fifty thousand now. Twenty thousand are laying siege to Riverrun for sure, but we don’t know exactly how many men Tywin has with him at Raventree Hall.”

“Don’t we have spies to confirm those numbers?” Robb asked. When he saw that all the northern lords were looking at him with raised eyebrows, he pressed the matter. “What, you mean we don’t have spies in the Riverlands?”

“Using spies is not honorable…” Lord Cerwyn started but was cut off by Robb.

“Bullshit.” He cried out. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, then you need not to fear the result of a hundred battles. However, if you know yourself and not the enemy, for every victory gained you will suffer a defeat.”

A page completely stolen from Sun Tzu’s Art of War, but damn he was going to need the whole fucking book if he was going to try and beat Tywin Lannister.

“Right.” He continued. “Well thankfully, Lord Bolton does have a few spies down there and has sent his spymaster to help with that.” But he was damn well not going to trust that fucker, he needed his own, and as such he turned to Tormund. “Tormund, your men, they reliable?”

“Orell and Varamyr? They’re the best at what they do.”

Robb smiled.

“See that they get to fly over Tywin’s camp as soon as possible. I won’t give battle without knowing the numbers.”

Most lords seemed surprised at Robb’s turn of phrase, but they didn’t protest. Tormund though understood, and grinned.

“I’ll tell them to get right on it, Lord Stark.”

“See that it is done.” Robb nodded. “Now, onto the Stormlands. We know Stannis holds King’s Landing, where is Tarly?”

“On his way to Harrenhal, he’s left Sow’s Horn two days ago.” Answered the Greatjon.

“Renly?” Robb asked.

“On his way to his reacher friends. Last we knew he was at Bitterbridge but that was a moon ago. No one knows where he’s gone. He’s blocked the Goldroad at the Blackwater Rush with the swords he had that’s for sure, which explains why the Lannister cunt had to take a detour.” Answered Rickard Karstark.

“How many?”

The White Sun lord shrugged. “Unsure. Thirty thousand at best? He’s also had a force at Storm’s End, but these are debating whether to stay loyal to Renly or go to Stannis in King’s Landing.”

Great, then this was all over the place. He could only hope the Reach would honor the alliance Ned made with them eventually. But now there was only one objective, secure the Riverlands and kick Tywin back to his rock.

“Well, my lords, we march to Moat Cailin in a few hours. When we reach the Moat, I want to know every fucking movement Tywin Lannister makes. If he moves his troops, I want to be aware of it, if he decides to move his camp, I want to be aware of it, and if he takes a shit, I want to be aware of it.” Robb stared at the room. “Victorious warriors win first then go to war. Defeated warriors go to war, then seek to win. We need to have a plan and two backups before we even meet them on the field. We have much to discuss on the way my lords, do not make yourselves comfortable, and make no mistake, this is as important as the war to the north, for if we fail to bring back order to the southern kingdoms, we cannot hold the northern threat alone. This war is as important as the war for the living. Now let’s get moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I thought this would be a short one, I was dead wrong, I think it's the longest chapter yet, hence the delay. Hope it was worth the wait.


	20. Chapter XI, Part 1: A march for trouts / Theon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Theon meet again

**Chapter XI**

**Part I**

**Theon IV**

The walls of Moat Cailin had been bustling with more activity than usual, the arrival of the northern host being both a curse and a blessing. Robb and the northern army had admired the new face of Moat Cailin, and Theon had been proud of his work. But now the army had moved at a fast pace south, the Engineers being incorporated into the northern army, and Theon saw his workload double. But today, they had crossed the Neck, and Robb had promised him to finally send him off on his “side quest” as he liked to call it, and so he’d done his work for the day with a smile on his face.

He knew that this was finally his opportunity to leave the North and the Engineers, despite him growing to like the bunch. When news that the North had answered the Riverlands’ call to aid, he’d been ecstatic, this was finally his moment to shine. He’d been stuck on this castle for longer than he could remember, and although he’d taken a few trips here and there, he’d been mostly sitting on his ass training the new corps of engineers.

He did travel a few times, notably for Robb’s wedding in Winterfell, that also came out as quite the surprise, to be honest he never expected Robb could get married, especially not to Val of all people. But hey, if Robb was happy, then he was happy for him. He’d also visited Riverrun and Seagard where Edmure Tully and Jason Mallister asked for his guidance in matters of the two castles’ defences. He had to admit, the Tullys had done some good work, Riverrun looked like a fortress now, not some castle stuck in the middle of a river.

But now he knew that it was his turn to step into the light. Robb had stepped into it by just being himself, not in the good way, but he’d managed to hold the northern army together just fine, and Ned, well, had gained quite a reputation beyond-the-wall. He’d heard nothing about Jon but that’s likely because Dorne and Dornish people are boring as shit and nothing’s happening down there anyways.

Theon smiled, this would be his time, soon enough he’d be on the first ship east to Meereen or Yunkai or Astapor and he would bring back Daenerys Targaryen and hopefully make her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He’d rejoiced at the news of Robert’s hunting accident, and Stannis taking power in King’s Landing was just the icing on the cake. He knew Stannis was bound to do something really dumb at some point, Renly couldn’t ever be a serious threat, and Tommen only had the Westerlands, this meant Ned could only support Daenerys, right? Jon didn’t want the crown, and he couldn’t blame him, he didn’t want it either. But he knew that Daenerys could make a difference for the better, but he had to get to her before she had enough bad experiences in Meereen to justify turning the city to dust.

“Lord Greyjoy?” a voice cut Theon out of his reverie.

“Aye, Captain Liddle. What is it?”

“Your presence is required at the war council in the command tent, Lord Stark requested it.”

Theon smiled. This was it, this was go time. He quickly left his own tent, rushing outside where hundreds of small tents had sprung up around the southern edges of the Neck along the Kingsroad. It didn’t take long for Theon to recognize the command tent, a large grey tent with the direwolf banner floating into the wind. He rushed forward, dodging the few soldiers who went to and from the castle, eventually making his way into the tent where a dozen lords were already assembled. He scouted the room with his eyes, his gaze looking over the room, before locking eyes with Robb. The two men walked towards each other in silence before embracing.

“How have you been?” Robb asked.

“Could be better.” Theon replied. “Please tell me you’re here to save me and give a mission that involves me leaving this god forsaken castle.”

“I am.” Robb answered, as Theon let out a relieved sigh. “Ned sent instructions and I went over them. I have them with me, but we’ll talk in private later, this information is sensitive.”

Theon nodded. They’d probably planned what happened in case of Robert dying and since this information contained quite possibly the future of the north, it was only logical to have this discussion in a more private setting.

“How’s your wife?” he asked as more and more lords came pouring into the tent.

“You can ask her yourself.” Robb replied with a smile. “She arrived here yesterday.”

“What? You brought her here? Are you mad?”

Robb shook his head.

“She wouldn’t let me go without taking her with me.”

“She’s pregnant, Robb, for fuck’s sake!”

“She wouldn’t be deterred. Fear not, she’s being cared for, the maester said that she’ll be expecting in less than two months, and I fully intend to have her in a castle by then.”

Theon rolled his eyes. When his friend had his mind on something, he wouldn’t ever let it go, although we saw how that came out with the whole marriage affair. Theon felt a shiver go down his spine, hopefully Robb would be better at warfare than northern politics, and at least this time he was married, that would avoid some awkward conversations.

Theon turned away from Robb, who placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be off soon.”

Theon only nodded as the rest of the northern lords finally took their place around the table, containing a fairly reasonably detailed map of the southern kingdoms. He turned to Robb, whose expression went from jovial to stern and absolutely serious in an instant.

“My lords, I have bad news. It seems that Lord Raymun Darry, in all his foolishness, has decided that he wouldn’t let us take all the credit for beating Tywin Lannister’s ass.”

The room stared in silence.

“As such, Lord Darry decided to engage Tywin’s forces outside of Harrenhal to go retake his own castle, of course not waiting for the reinforcements Lord Tarly had coming his way, our thinking about our host altogether as well.”

Robb moved his hand over a trout woodpiece and removed it from the board, placing a lion in its stead.

“Darry was soundly defeated. Tywin Lannister has tried to take Harrenhal but Tarly beat him to it.” He placed a huntsman woodpiece on the castle’s location. “However, Tarly cannot sortie out with any of his men, and he’ll soon be forced to abandon the castle and move on to High Heart or Raventree Hall, or even Pinkmaiden if he gets lucky. In any case, Tywin Lannister has a free hand to go siege King’s Landing.”

A wave of gasps, groans and muttering escaped the room. Some lords shook their heads and others cursed under their breaths. Theon knew of the Tully strategy, it sounded pretty good, but now that Darry had acted like an ass, it was in shambles.

“So, what happens now?” asked Lord Cerwyn.

“I’ve had spies work out the exact numbers of Tywin’s host.” Robb continued; a stone-cold expression on his face. “They report the army sieging Riverrun is only twenty thousand strong. The rest is with Tywin. However, Tywin is wary of an attack on Darry from our host to cut his supply lines and as such has sent ten thousand men to hold the Crossroads and retake Harrenhal once Tarly inevitably retreats from it. He marches on the capital with thirty thousand men.”

“Thirty thousand?” Lord Glover asked. “That’s impossible, you can’t be serious.”

“I’ve had three different spies tell me the same thing, Lord Glover. It seems we have underestimated the Lion’s numbers.”

“Wilding spies!” Lord Glover protested.

Robb just shook his head.

“Two of them are, aye.” He answered, looking Lord Glover in the eyes. “But one of them is one of the Manderlys’ actually.”

Lord Glover turned to Wylis Manderly, a quite heavily built man with the classiest mustache Robb had ever seen. The Merman lord only nodded in response, shutting Glover up.

The other northern lords cursed under their breaths once again. What had been thought as a small host of thirty thousand was now well over fifty or even sixty thousand strong. And with Darry captured and Harrenhal soon to follow, Tywin had everything short of Riverrun cleared to supply his army from Lannisport to the capital.

“Shit.” Muttered Rickard Karstark. “Well, this changes things drastically, we can’t hope to drag Tywin into the open, much less try to take him on. We could try to defeat him in detail, take out his host at Darry and then block the road out of King’s Landing…”

“But then he’d send reinforcements to his host faster than we can reach him. We’ve only got under fifteen thousand, all he needs to do his turn around and we’ll be outnumbered close to 2 to 1!” a young Ryswell said.

Robb stared at the map for a while, Theon looking at him as he scoured over the area around the Trident with his fingers, before reaching for the wolf woodpiece, placed just south of Greywater Watch.

“Tywin Lannister expects our host to march towards the Trident. I say we do just that.” Robb finally spoke. “But! But.” He let out, louder, as many lords started muttering in their loud voices. “We actually don’t.”

“I don’t seem to follow, Lord Stark.” Said Dacey Mormont.

“Simple. To defeat Tywin Lannister in the field, we need to free up the Riverlands host at Riverrun. In short, we need to lift the siege, free up the twenty thousand men the Blackfish has, and force Tywin to face us on the field where we’ll then outnumber him, provided we take out those twenty thousand at Riverrun.”

“But if Tywin learns that we are marching towards him, he’ll send his forces to Riverrun, and he can do it faster than we can!” protested the Greatjon Umber.

“Then we make him believe we’re still aiming for the Trident to defeat the host he has at Darry or Harrenhal.” Robb looked around the room only to see confused faces, and he sighed. “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable. When using our forces, we must appear inactive. When we are near, we need to make the enemy believe that we are far away. When we are far away, we need to make him believe that we are near.” Robb said with a grin.

Robb turned to him then.

“Theon, do you think the engineers could pull off a Fortitude?”

Theon looked confused, then it made him tilt, and he grinned from ear to ear before laughing.

“You mean to pull off a FUSAG?”

Robb nodded.

“Aye.” He answered. “Aye, it could be done.”

“Who’d you think is your best bet for it?”

Theon thought for a second before turning to Morgan Liddle.

“Captain Liddle deserves it, he’s the best commander the engineers could have, and he can take on this mission.”

The man looked confused for a moment, before muttering out.

“I…I don’t understand my lord.”

“Well it’s simple.” Robb walked towards him. “Theo…Lord Greyjoy will go on a diplomatic mission, and as such the engineers will need a new commander, and I believe Lord Greyjoy just promoted you.”

The man looked dumbfounded.

“I…It’ll be my honor, Lord Stark.” He recollected himself before asking. “But what is this mission you would like to task me with?”

“A simple one, really.” Theon answered for Robb. “Lord Stark wishes to march on Riverrun with his army. Tywin Lannister expects us to march on Darry with an army. We can’t really be in two places at the same time, unless we create a fake army.”

The captain’s face illuminated for a moment, before he stepped up to the table.

“I see. You want me to march the engineers towards the Trident and make the lions believe our host is marching there.”

“Yes.” Robb spoke as he took out a wolf woodpiece, placing it on the Kingsroad. “You’ll walk during the day and make as much noise as possible. Fly every banner possible, make believe you are marching with ten thousand men, not two thousand. Don’t engage the Lannisters, but make sure you make your presence known, you need to keep them from reaching Riverrun before we do. They need to think that no one is going for the Tully seat.”

Morgan Liddle nodded.

“It can be done, Lord Stark.” He said calmly. “Fake campfires, fake tents, fake weapons, fake horses. Lord Greyjoy taught us how to do it, the Phantom Army Plan, he called it. I believe we can make it work.”

“Be sure that you do, Lord Liddle.” Robb smiled, but was interrupted by Lord Karstark.

“Even if this deception works, how are we ever going to sneak to Riverrun?” the old lord asked. “We could only take the horse to make time, but even then, it would be a long road down. And bringing the foot would only slow our progression.”

Robb nodded.

“Fair point, Lord Karstark. That’s why we won’t be moving during the day, we’ll be moving at night, with minimal lights. We rest during the day, preferably in the woods, not along the main roads. Do not wave your banners high in the sky, we must stay as discreet as possible. In two days, we’ll reach the Twins and gods be good in just over a moon we’ll be at Riverrun.”

He turned to Theon then.

“Well then, Lord Greyjoy. We will still need to conceal a good twelve thousand men. Do you have any men up to the task?”

Theon smiled again and nodded.

“Torrhen Ironsmith. Probably the best camouflage expert we have, he can turn your northern army into a forest in a few days. When moving down the road, Tywin’s scouts won’t be able to tell the difference between your host and a perfectly normal forest.”

Robb nodded.

“Good, then it’s settled.” He turned to the lords in attendance. “Time is of the essence. The engineers will depart as soon as the necessary preparations are done. Our host will leave during the night once Ironsmith has made the preparations of his own. Lord Liddle, I trust you to inform him as soon as you are able. In any case, my lords, it seems that we’ll see some fighting soon, and I’ll see you on the morrow. We need a new plan now.”

All the lords nodded and left, some of them with some weak protests that Robb dismissed, or, to Theon’s surprise, answered their concerns with some tact, leaving only Theon and Robb in the now empty tent.

“So, what is this sensitive diplomatic mission you wanted to talk about?” Theon nearly giggled. Robb stayed stone cold though.

“Sit down.” Robb said as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket before sitting down on his own chair.

Theon looked uneasy for a moment as Robb’s expression didn’t change and now, he was scared of what would come next. Robb stayed calm and controlled though, as he clapped his hands together before saying the words Theon hoped to never hear.

“I’m sending you to Pyke, Theon.”

Theon just blinked twice, before reaching for the mug of ale sitting on the table. He quickly poured himself a goblet, before downing it in one go. Wiping the ale from his lips, he turned back to Robb.

“Sorry, I needed a drink to wake me up. I must be quite asleep because I swore you just said that you are sending me to Pyke.”

“I am.”

He reached for the mug of ale once more, but Robb pushed it away from him.

“This isn’t a situation you’re going to get out of, Theon.”

He sighed deeply, turning to face Robb once more.

“But why?”

“I need Balon Greyjoy to not do anything stupid. The last thing I want to deal with is Ironborn in the North, reaving the Stony Shore and attacking the coastline while I waddle south.”

“And what makes you think I can do anything about it?”

“Well you’re Theon Greyjoy, his last trueborn son. You can convince him not to do anything stupid.”

“Like that worked out for Theon in canon.”

“It would have worked if canon Theon wasn’t infuriated with the Starks and willing to prove himself to his father.” Robb replied. “Do you mean to say you want to roll up to Winterfell and try to sack it? Because if you’ve noticed I only have a third of what the North can muster south, the rest is preparing for the war that comes North. If the Ironborn come, they’ll be crushed, but I’d rather have Tywin Lannister deal with that shit than Ned.”

Theon nodded.

“But why me? You know Balon is a stubborn idiot, it’s not like I of all people can convince him.”

“Balon is an idiot, but he’s a proud idiot. If you challenge him enough, he might listen.”

Theon sighed, but Robb continued without leaving him a chance to speak.

“You know the Greyjoys way better than I do. You can appeal to his pride or whatever, send him to reave the Mander, Kayce, the Feastfires, Lannisport, whatever, just not the North or Seagard.”

“Right. Let’s consider the off-chance that I somehow manage to convince him, what’s stopping him from just not letting me leave the island?”

“Two hundred northern and riverlander men should do it.”

Theon raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve arranged an escort for you. Ser Wylis Manderly will escort you with Lord Jason Mallister to Pyke and ensure your safety. After leaving the Iron Islands we’ll proceed with the plan.”

“The plan?”

“Why, you want to go east? Well Ned and I have drafted up a plan for you.” Robb held up a piece of paper. Theon reached to grab it but Robb kept it out of his reach. “But first, you have to accept to go to Pyke. Once you’ve completed the mission, we can go forwards.”

“And if Balon doesn’t accept?”

Robb shrugged.

“Send me a raven, or a hawk for that matter. You still have Hedwige?”

Theon nodded.

“Good, it’ll be faster. Expect some news from Jon’s Curtiss soon as well, I doubt he’ll want to sit there doing nothing but counting the number of grains in the sand, especially with all that’s going on. You might want to write to him as well, maybe tell him try to prevent Quentyn from reaching Meereen? I’m not aware of the Dornish situation. In any case I sent a coded raven telling him to try and rally the Martells to our cause. They’ve been sitting on their asses waiting for a chance at vengeance against the Lannisters, they’ll never get a better chance than this.” Robb continued. “In any case if you fail to convince Balon give me a detailed report and head immediately to White Harbor.”

Robb dropped a raven scroll on the table, which Theon picked up, before raising his head.

“My instructions, I presume?”

Robb nodded, and Theon started going over the paragraph. A sound plan, albeit some parts could be risky. But the essentials were there, Theon was finally going east, and that called for some celebration.

“What do you think?” Robb asked.

Theon held a finger up, reading the last words on the parchment. Those words were not what Theon expected, hell they could throw everything into disarray.

“You serious with that last part?” Theon asked

“The North will never bend the knee to the Targaryens again. The only case where they might is if it was Jon taking power. And Jon doesn’t have three dragons.”

Theon ran a hand over his face.

“She won’t like it.”

“It’s the price she has to pay for her kingdoms. I trust you to make her know that.”

Theon nodded. He knew that Robb was right, there was no way the north was ever going to accept Daenerys as their ruler, especially not after what happened to Brandon and Rickard Stark. This really was the best-case scenario, but he’d have to do a hell of a lot of persuasion in order for it to work. Robb probably saw the worry on his face and made a move to try and reassure him.

“We’re going to fight to put her on the throne. The North needs a reward as big as this for it, and to convince the northern lords, we need this prize.”

“It’s not only the North we’re talking about though…”

“The Riverlands are better off in the midst of a strong kingdom or they’ll be fucked and they know it. Won’t be difficult to convince them to support this decision. And fuck the Vale, they haven’t done jack shit, they won’t have a say in anything.”

“The Westerlands? The Reach? The Stormlands? Dorne?”

“I’m hoping Jon can bring Dorne to our side. The Westerlands will be a subjugated state once I’m done with it. The Stormlands are technically in open rebellion so I doubt it’ll be a problem. The Reach I’m more worried about, but if we arrange a marriage between one of Margaery’s children and one of Daenerys’…”

“That’s assuming Daenerys will want to marry at all.”

“She’ll have to. Alliances are made this way. Worst case scenario try to put Quentyn in if Jon fails to convince Doran not to send him, that’ll secure Dorne. By marrying their children and Margaery and Renly’s we can bring in the Reach and the Stormlands…”

“Risky though, Renly’s host is a hundred thousand strong and…”

“And Daenerys has three dragons. All I need you to do is to bring her back as soon as possible. I don’t care how you do it, but I need her to be in King’s Landing by the end of next year or I don’t see how the fuck we’ll be keeping the realm together waiting for her.”

“That’s assuming we don’t get our asses kicked by Tywin Lannister.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Robb rolled his eyes. “Do you distrust me that much?”

“I somehow don’t think you can beat him in the field no.”

“Then bring her back before I get my ass handed to me.”

“Right, right.” Theon raised a hand. “But when will Ned announce his decision?”

“Whenever Robert’s death is made public or the moment you enter White Harbor, whichever comes first.”

Theon nodded. He would pay good money to be there during that announcement just to see the look on the northerners faces.

“Driftmark first, though. What do you think of that plan?” Robb asked.

“Risky. Very risky. But if Manderly and Mallister come with me, we just might be able to pull it off.”

Robb smiled.

“You ride for Seagard tomorrow, good luck my friend.” Robb walked forward and embraced him. “Don’t get killed.”

Theon raised an eyebrow. “You’re going into battle; I think I’ll be fine playing diplomats. I think if someone should say that it’s me.”

Robb reached for the mug of ale, before bringing in two cups, filling them both and handing one to Theon. He raised his glass up in the air with a smile on his face.

“To Daenerys Stormborn, First of her name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Robb raised his own glass, looking at him with a grin of his own.

“To Eddard Stark, sixth of his name, King in the North.”

Theon smiled and their cups collided.

“To the King in the North!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here we go, things are about to get very serious very fast. Next we head to Sunspear with Jon, who has worries of his own, then north again to Riverrun, as Edmure is dealing with more than just the Lannisters.


	21. Chapter XI, Part 2: A march for trouts / Jon VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Arianne discuss the future, and the future comes to them

**Chapter XI**

**Part II**

**Jon VIII**

**Warning: Explicit content, Starts and finishes with /!\**

I woke up to sunlight blinding me from the windows placed on top of the bed. Groggy, I quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, wiping my eyes and face, trying to stare into the windows. Still sleepy, I leaned in to get my shirt, but I winced as I didn’t find it. Weird, I usually put it on the table next to me, but a quick look to my left and right left me with one conclusion, this wasn’t my room. Where the fuck am I, then? That’s when it struck me.

No. No, this wasn’t possible, that was a dream. Shit.

For the better part of ten seconds I believed I had dreamed it all. It wasn’t possible, and yet, it all came back to me soon enough. I fought to resist it, but it was too tempting and yet there was passion, there was caring, it wasn’t like any of the other times I’d gotten someone to bed just to piss her off. This time it felt right. But even then, what had I done? I played directly into Doran’s cards, and it would now only be a matter of time till everyone knew and someone would barge in and find us here. Then it would go to shit and Doran would ask for me to marry her, no he wouldn’t ask, he would demand, for having dishonored her. Not like I was the first, but it would be official to the rest of the kingdoms and the sneaky fuck would then go with phase 2 of his plan, the part that relies on my lineage. Well, shit. I’d need to write a raven to Theon soon enough.

I didn’t have time to think though, as the bed sheets beside me moved. I turned around and saw Arianne’s beautiful face looking at me, her dark hair dishevelled, and that’s where the last thoughts of it being a dream died out. A smile formed on her lips and mine, as she took me by the hair and neck, bringing my lips to hers. Once more, it didn’t feel forced or out of pure lust, it just felt…right. As I pulled out of the kiss, I remembered that Arianne wanted to ask two questions, but only got to one, and the answer to that question being very thorough and detailed, she hadn’t gotten to the second. Not like I was complaining, but I was still curious.

“So, what was your second question?” I asked.

Arianne looked surprised, thinking for a moment, before seemingly remembering and asking with a small smile:

“Oh yes. Tell me Jon, do you know who your mother is? You never talk about her.”

Shit. I’d almost forgotten all that story, and now it came to bite me. I could lie of course, but she’d confided in me, wouldn’t that be betraying her trust if I did?

“Ah.” I said, dropping my smile and looking down. “I’m sorry, I cannot say who it is.”

“Why is that?” She asked as she lunged forward, slowly moving her fingers through my hair as she continued. “All of Dorne wished to know which of her countrymen managed to forsake Lord Eddard's honour. Is it Ashara Dayne? We all know what happened at Harrenhal."

Ashara Dayne. That could be an option, yes, but with her now alive this complicated things. And then there was Alysanne, and people would start talking eventually. And no, I couldn’t lie, this just wouldn’t do. I vowed to be truthful and I would.

"Yes, but no. Ashara Dayne isn't my mother."

"Who is it then? And why won't you tell me?"

Oh god, Arianne, why do you torture me so? I guess it was time to tell her the truth.

"I cannot tell you because it will change the way you look at me, and I don't want that. I don't want you to look at me as a different person because of my parents.”

Arianne then did something I didn’t expect. She just laughed, a sweet laugh, not a mocking one, one that cut deep nonetheless. She then smiled once more and kissed my cheek, as I reddened slightly.

"Jon, I love you. I doubt anything you say could ever make me change my opinion of you, apart from a Lannister perhaps. Is she a Lannister?"

I just shook my head, too shocked to speak.

"See, then we're fine. So, who was it?"

So, then it was time. Time to finally let out the truth and face the consequences. There would be no going back from this, and I could only hope she’d not rip my heart out right then and there. I drew in a deep breath, and finally led the two words out.

“Lyanna Stark.”

I don’t know if they came loud enough for anyone to hear, but I was sure she heard me all the same. I closed my eyes and waited for the eventual storm to come rushing in, for my own stupidity in trusting her with the biggest secret in the seven kingdoms. For a few seconds that seemed an eternity, I waited for the storm, but it never came.

Instead after two dozen seconds, Arianne pulled herself to me till her face was on my shoulders. It was then that she hugged me, deeply, tightly. Stunned, I did not know how to react, and only briefly returned the hug. She then broke the hug and stared at me, with an angry face. This was it, it was over, my happiness snatched from me in an instant. How could I have been so careless?

But then she spoke

“Don’t you ever, ever think this changes things between us. I don’t give two shits whether you are Aerys the mad’s bastard son himself, do you understand me, Jon?”

“Ari…”

She pulled me in again, kissing me deeply as a lone tear formed on my cheek.

“I told you I don’t care. Your mother was innocent of any crimes against my family, and neither do you. You cannot blame yourself for existing. I don’t care who your mother was, I only care about you, and you only.”

“Arianne, I…you don’t understand.”

“I understand this makes you the heir to the Iron Throne due to the Usurper’s legitimization. In any case, Targaryen loyalists will be torn to support you. You’d be a bastard whose legitimacy rests on Robert Baratheon’s name alone, one that the loyalists denounce as a false king.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I asked sharply. She just looked surprised.

“You don’t want the throne, do you?”

“I would never want it.” I said as I shook my head. “I’d be a terrible ruler. Unlike you, I wasn’t born for ruling. Not Seven Kingdoms anyhow. Some lands along the sea, a keep and mayhaps two or three towns would do for me. I could maybe be a lord paramount in another life, but the whole Seven Kingdoms? I’d end up dead within the month. Seven hells take that damn chair.”

She nodded, smiling.

“I can understand that. Though you’ve taught me more of ruling than I learnt since I turned fourteen, I am quite surprised you think you lack the capabilities to rule.”

“Unfortunately, ruling isn’t always about being capable.” I answered.

“Indeed.” She nodded. “You said being a lord paramount could suit you though, wouldn’t that compare to being king?”

“It wouldn’t. It’s easier to manage a smaller area of land you have a lot of control and power over than one where you don’t have either of those things.”

“Yes, I can understand that sentiment.” She answered, still smiling. “I’m sorry to bother you, but may I ask, do you know how it happened?”

“Do you mean between my mother and…?”

“Yes. I’d understand if it was too painful for you…I’m just curious.”

“It’s no matter. Truthfully, I don’t know much of what happened, but I’ll try my best to give you the most complete version.”

And so, I did, recollecting the events of the rebellion, from the tourney of Harrenhal to the events at the Tower of Joy, Ned’s eventual decision to raise Jon in Winterfell and the events afterwards. We then found ourselves recollecting memories from our childhoods, not that I had inherited much from Jon anyways, so it was mostly Arianne doing the talking at this point. We talked for so long, both lunch and dinner were brought to Arianne’s rooms, but the flow of time didn’t matter now, I didn’t count the minutes and hours I was with her as I did before, now it wasn’t a trial I had to go through, it was only two friends talking about everything and nothing. Suddenly, it was night once more, and Arianne suddenly stood up from the table to which we’d moved to.

“I’m sorry, Jon, it is getting late, and I’m afraid I might bore you to death.”

“I don’t think you could ever bore me to death, Ari.”

She laughed.

“I don’t think you want to challenge me; I can be really annoying if I want to.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” I said as I stood up from the table. “I must be going now.”

I turned to face the door, but I felt Arianne’s hand grab my arm. Surprised, I jerked around and that’s when she pressed her hands against the back of my head, pulling me into another kiss. Time froze again, and I don’t know how much time this one lasted. All I know is when I opened my eyes again, Arianne was staring at me with a smirk.

“For someone with such a good memory, you seem to forget a lot.” She remarked. “I damn well intend to keep you with me every night from now on.”

“Every night?” I asked surprised.

She shrugged.

“Even during the day if you’re feeling adventurous.” She winked, biting her lip.

I laughed, and she dragged me onto the bed.

/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\

Her hands were quick in getting rid of any clothes I had on my body, the Dornish climate having already claimed most of what I had. It was not long before I stood naked over her. I answered in kind, ridding her of her silken dress, dropping it onto the floor.

She bit her lip as I moved to kiss her neck, biting at it in several places as she moaned several times. Her voice, her moans, her pleas only made my pace up her neck more frantic. I needed her more than anything else in the world, she was…everything. I moved my lips to her mouth, where she welcomed me once more, our tongues dancing with each other as I could taste the wine on her tongue. I normally hated the taste, but with her, it came to taste as sweet as lemonade.

She broke off the kiss after a long minute, eyeing me with lust in her eyes.

“Fuck me, Jon.” She whispered into my ear. “Fuck me so that every person in this castle knows I am yours.”

I smiled but instead of aligning my body with hers, I kept trailing her with kisses around her breasts and down her body between her legs.

“Sure. But first, I want to taste you.” I replied with my mouth ready to devour her.

“Shit!” she cried out as my tongue entered her, moving in circles inside her cunt, just like I would inside her mouth. I felt Arianne’s body tense before shaking slightly, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was fighting for her life, with her moans quickly filling the room and possibly the whole wing of the castle.

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, Jon Stark!” she cried between two moans. Not like I had any intention to, I quickened the pace as my hands wrapped around her thighs, keeping her womanhood between my lips.

Then her body shuddered and she came in a howl, her sweet nectar flooding my mouth as I tasted her, swallowing every last drop that came into my mouth.

“You taste delicious.” I said with a smirk as Arianne was panting.

She laughed and brought herself to my lips once more, eager to taste what was left of her juices on my tongue.

“Enough with that.” She said seriously. “You know what I crave, give it to me!” she pleaded.

“I want you to ask nicely, princess.” I replied with a smile as I kissed her neck.

“Fuck me. Please. Fuck me, make me yours.”

Those were the only words I needed to hear, as I aligned myself with her womanhood. With one quick thrust, I found myself inside her, her walls pressing me as I felt the heat of her insides.

“Shit. Ari, you’re magical.” I blurted out.

“Hmmm.” Arianne answered as she closed her eyes, feeling the pleasure as I moved to fill her. I began moving inside her, her moans becoming louder and louder as I pressed on.

“Harder!” she managed to blurt out between two moans. “I want you deep inside me, harder!”

She was amazing. I quickened my pace as asked, and her moans only grew louder and louder till all I could hear was her screaming, my panting and the sound of her skin meeting mine as we collided.

Her walls drained my manhood as I fell on top of her, kissing her passionately as she moaned into my mouth, filling it with an unknown sensation. I broke the kiss as we both moaned in pleasure as she moved her hips to quicken the pace even more, her moans reaching a point where people in the Shadow City could probably hear her.

Finally, she came with another scream, her body shaking from the pleasure, but I did not relent, and kept up the pace. Surprised by this, she groaned, her nails digging into my back. But I didn’t care about the pain, I only cared about her. Hell, the pain of her nails in my back combined with the heat of her body and cunt made me cry out in pleasure as she arched her back.

“Fuck, Jon!” she screamed.

“Ari, I’m close…” I tried to warn her. But instead of stopping her hips, she wrapped her legs around my waist, barring any escape.

“If you dare cum outside of my cunt, I’ll have your head, Jon Stark!” she cried out.

God, this was too much to bear. With a groan, I unleashed everything inside her, making her cry out in pleasure.

“Yes! I want it all, give it to me!”

“Arianne…” I whispered as I collapsed onto her, removing my member from her insides as she moved to lick the remaining fluids off of it. I grabbed her hair and kissed her deeply once she’d finished, moving her on top of me before breaking the kiss. I stared into her dark eyes, before whispering. “I love you.”

She moved in to kiss my lips quickly before whispering into my ear.

“I love you too, my wolf.”

/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\/!\

Needless to say, the next few weeks flew by fast, with each day and night becoming a dream as Arianne and I talked, laughed and cried, sharing more than a bed as I feared we’d end up doing. The snake had caught me in her fangs it seemed, but I wasn’t complaining about it. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Damn, Ned, sometimes I do like your stupid decision-making.

But my time with the princess had driven me apart with Arya and Edric. I’d seen them less and less over the past few weeks, as the time I spent outside of Arianne’s chambers was either in my own room, sparring outside or taking a trip to one of Sunspear’s beaches, feeling the warm water wash up to my feet sinking in the sand.

Watching into the horizon an evening as the sun set onto one of these beaches made me realise something, though. One day, Arya would marry Trystayne, and with that my mission of protecting her would be done and dusted. Hell, she could very well defend herself already, I doubt I’d still be needed in a year or so. Then I’d never see Arianne again, and the happy times would end. She’d marry a lord of Dorne or maybe even the Reach, and I’d have to settle in the North and find someplace to settle down. But I doubt I’d find a woman like Arianne there.

That night, as I lay beside her, she noticed my distant look and quickly asked.

“Jon, is something bothering you?”

I sighed deeply. “Have you ever thought about the future? I mean, soon enough my mission to protect Arya will come at an end, and my father, I mean Ned, will try to recall me North.”

She smiled.

“I’ve thought about it indeed. My father is sick, it’s only a matter of time till I become princess of Dorne, with you by my side.”

“Me?”

“Do you not love me?” she asked confused.

“Of course, I do. It’s just that…”

“Then what is the problem, am I not worthy of your hand?” she asked mischievously.

“If anything, I’m not worthy of yours. I cannot bring much to you. I am sixth in line to the throne and a legitimized bastard. My hand is not worth much for Dorne.”

“You are worth more to me than any other lord.”

“I know, Arianne. But…I’d still have to ask your father and…I doubt he’d accept.”

Arianne just laughed.

“My father will accept; I’ll make sure of it. If I tell him I want you, he’ll give in eventually, and if he doesn’t, I’ll just refuse every offer until he consents to give me your hand.”

“But what of the people of Dorne, wouldn’t they object to the match? You have to think of the consequences of such a union, I doubt the dornish lords would be happy with their princess marrying a northerner.”

She shook her head.

“Well they accepted Trystayne marrying Arya…”

“Trystayne isn’t the heir to Dorne.”

“Right then let’s take it one dornish house at a time then.” She raised her hands, and started counting on her fingers. “The Allyrions like you, Lord Ryon hasn’t had a bad word to say about you. Perros Blackmont also likes you and Edric, so you’ll have them in as well. No need to talk about the Daynes, they all like you, except Gerold, but Gerold doesn’t like anyone and his family are landed knights, not lords. You left quite an impression on the Fowlers.” She said that last part with a smile, I just rolled my eyes. “Right. House Gargalen is very minor and hasn’t voiced anything for or against you, House Jordayne will back you since Lady Myria is a friend, Alyse likes your input on the finances so you have House Ladybright backing you as well. House Manwoody are Stony Dornish, they’ll back a northern match, the Qorgyles and the Ullers will follow my uncle and would probably back you as well if I reason with him. The Tolands will back my choice, and the Wells are too minor to care. This leaves the Vaiths, Wyls and Yronwoods. The Vaiths will probably back you and the Wyls like your fighting spirit so they’ll back you as well. This leaves the Yronwoods, true they have a son in age of marrying me, but the bloodroyals would rather see Quentyn sit in Sunspear than myself. And cohabitation with Cletus would be…a pain. My father wouldn’t consent to the match.”

“And would your father accept even after the letter I sent Theon?”

Arianne then leaned in and grabbed my right arm, guiding it over her stomach.

“He has to. Especially after I’ve told him what is growing inside me.”

I recoiled in shock.

“Arianne you didn’t…”

“I didn’t drink moon tea, no. It has been a few weeks but I know your child is growing inside me, and I’ll be damned if I kill it or let it become a bastard, no offence to you or my cousins intended of course.” She replied. “The babe I am carrying will become prince or princess after me, that I’ll make sure.”

I was dumbstruck, too shocked to move, before breaking down crying.

“This…this is wonderful.” I went to hug her tightly. I’d never experienced that much joy before. I continued hugging her for a good minute before looking her in the eyes again. “In two weeks, I’ll head down to the Water Gardens and ask for your hand, will you accompany me?”

She smiled in return.

“Of course, I will.”

I never slept better than that night, and this news brightened the next few days immensely. Arya and Edric took notice and asked what was up with me being so cheerful all of a sudden, but I just waved it off. The next few days I spent working on my pet project I’d started for a few months, as I thought it was time to introduce a new sport to Westeros, but I needed to get a very budget version of a ball first. I didn’t have rubber or synthetics so I’d have to do one the old way. I’d bought a fair amount of leather, inflating it so it would resemble the shape of a ball, leaving a small gash open in order to fill it in with cork shavings. Then I sewed the gash back up using leather once more. Once the ball was ready, I dipped the whole thing in a mixture from the Summer Islands that apparently helped strengthen the leather so it didn’t break at the first kick. A rudimentary version, not made for playing when it was raining, as the rain would make the ball much heavier and as such, dangerous, but it was a start.

I ran into the courtyard, this time keeping my sword in my room, but always keeping a dagger on me, you never know when you’ll need that thing after all. I had a ball, but now I needed a field. Thankfully, Sunspear did have a sparring yard covered with fine sand, large enough that taking half of it wouldn’t be an issue. I took a few large wooden sticks and hurried onto the field, putting two sticks on the ground and counting my steps to create the boundaries of my makeshift football field.

By then, my agitation had stirred up some people, who looked in confusion as to what I was doing. Arya was the first to come up to me as I started drawing the boundaries of the field.

“Hello, Jon.”

“Hey, Arya, I didn’t see you there. How has life been going?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t really been around these past few weeks.” She answered, dodging the question.

“I haven’t really had the time, I’m sorry I…”

“Yes, we’ve heard.” She interrupted

“Heard?” I asked quizzically.

“You and the princess haven’t exactly been discreet.” She said with a sly smile on her face.

I just rolled my eyes. “You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

“Oh, it’s not the gossip, those walls are thin you know, and the halls carry sound quite well.”

My face reddened.

“Ah. Well um…”

“No need to make excuses, Jon.” She held her hand up. “So you finally crossed a bridge, what now, you going to marry her?”

“Arya…”

“Come on, you know you can trust me.” She said angrily, as she crossed her arms.

I looked around the courtyard, and seeing as some people were watching and probably listening in, I leaned into her ear.

“I’m going to ask for her hand, yes. But please keep it to yourself.” I leaned out and put on a serious face. “Seriously, Arya, this isn’t a joke. Do keep it to yourself, promise me.”

“I promise.” She said, giggling. “I won’t say a word to anyone, even Trystayne.”

“You’ve been getting on?” I asked, surprised.

“Better than I expected.” She shrugged. “He lets me do anything I want with Needle and he’s nice. He’s quite cute as well, I guess there’s worse matches.” She said that last part with a sigh. “But I’m happy for you, I’ll admit I’ve never seen you this happy since…” she thought for a moment “since never actually. I’m excited for you, Jon.” She then proceeded to hug me for a moment before quickly switching her gaze behind her.

By then, Edric had approached us and his eyes instantly darted towards the ball I held beneath my arm.

“What’s that?” the storm kid asked.

“So, Edric, how’s it been going with Alysanne?” Arya asked before I could even get a word in.

“It’s been going…good. She’s nice, I guess.” The boy answered.

“You guess? Every time she’s mentioned you go as red as a tomato.” Arya let out with a small laugh. “Mayhaps I should tell her how Elia is jealous of her?”

Edric’s face whitened, the boy’s face quickly draining of colour as he stammered slightly.

“Arya, stop torturing the poor boy.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop, you’re no fun.”

“Right.” I continued. “Then to answer your question, Edric. This is a game I thought it’d be nice to try out. It’s call football.”

“That’s quite a stupid name.” Arya interrupted. I just rolled my eyes.

“Basically, the goal of the game is to send this ball” I said as I raised the leather ball, “between these two posts, using only your feet.” I pointed to the two sticks standing out of the ground on each side of the field, separated by about fifty meters.

“So, it’s a team game?” asked Edric.

“Yes.”

“How many players in a team then?”

“Usually eleven, but I think we can settle on five on each team now.”

Edric nodded and we scouted the courtyard. Soon enough, quite a few people had grown interested, including Prince Oberyn, who stared at the field in confusion.

“So, what are the rules?” Oberyn asked as he and his daughter Obara stepped up.

I quickly counted the number of people around me. Arya, Edric, Oberyn, Obara were here with me, so we had five. Ser Wendel and Ser Manfrey also had gotten interested, these were two more. With Trystayne and his friend Perros Blackmont that made two more. Finally, Oberyn managed to convince the older Ryon Allyrion to join as well to make the numbers.

“Right.” I looked at all of them. “The rules are simple. You can use any part of your body to carry the ball to the other side of the pitch between the other posts, except your arms and hands. Each time the ball crossed the two sticks, it is a point. Usually we’d do two halves of three quarters of an hour, but we’ll settle on half an hour per half, with a quarter of an hour break between the two halves. The goal of the game is to defend your own “goal” while scoring a maximum amount of goals yourself. The winner is the one who scores the most goals in the end.”

“And if there is a tie?” Trystayne quickly asked.

“If there’s a tie, we go to overtime. Two halves of a sixth of an hour with a short break. If the tie still stands then we go to penalty shoot-out.”

“What’s a shoot-out?” Edric asked, confused.

“Each player gets to kick the ball from the point you see here.” I said as I pointed to the penalty spot marked by red paint. “If you score, you get a point. If the goalkeeper stops it, you get no points.”

“How can a goalkeeper expect to block a shot from that distance if he can’t use his hands?” Oberyn asked, as confused as ever.

“The goalkeeper is the only person in the game that can use his hands. But.” I raised a finger, anticipating Oberyn’s next question. “He can only do so in the square area in front of the goal.” I indicated the lines made of white paint along the goal area.

“If the ball ever goes out of the side bounds.” I pointed to the white boundaries on each side. “You can take the ball with your hands and throw it back in provided you do not step over the line with the ball. The team that doesn’t knock it out gets to throw. Similarly, if the ball goes out of the back bounds.” I pointed to both boundaries near each goal. “Then it depends. If it is your goal and you put it out of bounds, the opposing team gets a corner kick from the side it went off of.” I gestured to the makeshift flags. “If it is your goal but the opposing team put the ball out of bounds, then the goalkeeper gets the ball.”

“And how would you get the ball from the other team?” the young Blackmont asked.

“Well with your own feet.” I answered. “You must play the ball at all times though. No tackling, shoving, pushing or harming the opponent. You cannot hold him back by the shirt or any other garments, and you most certainly cannot use weapons.”

“And what if I do anyways?” Prince Oberyn asked.

“Then if you do, you get a warning or get sent off and the opposing team gets the ball, except if the foul happens in the goal box, instead it’s a penalty.”

“And who would enforce it then?” Oberyn countered.

“Usually we would have a referee, but in this case, I think…”

“I can referee!” a voice was heard in the distance.

“Lady Alysanne? Did you understand all the rules?” I asked as the young Dayne came running up.

“Of course.” She smiled. “It isn’t complicated, it’s simpler than cyvasse.”

I nodded.

“Well then Prince Oberyn, you have your answer. Lady Alysanne will referee the match to ensure no fouls are committed.”

“All that is well and good.” Lord Allyrion interjected. “But what is the point? Not the goal of the game, I understand that, but what is the aim of the game, if it isn’t meant for children?”

“Well” I answered calmly. “It develops strength, flexibility and endurance. Once we get into it, you’ll see that we’ll be running as much as when we would be in battle. And it will also improve communication, team work and you get to know your teammates better. It builds some amount of trust if you will. And plus, who said fun was reserved to children. There’s other ways of enjoying yourself as a man or woman than just sparring or…” I turned to Oberyn. “…other activities.”

Oberyn scoffed. “I really doubt that.”

“Really? Then let’s get into it.” I pointed out several groups that seemed more or less fair. “Prince Oberyn, Ser Wendel, Ser Manfrey, Prince Trystayne and Edric, you’re a team. I’ll join Lord Blackmont, Lord Allyrion, Obara and Arya on the other. Take your positions and let’s get to it.”

“Wait, since you’re obviously experienced playing, why are you in their team rather than ours?” Edric complained.

“You have three adults, against Lord Allyrion on his own for us. I think it can outweigh my own skill.” I shrugged as Edric seemingly accepted the explanation.

Lord Allyrion got designated as goalkeeper on our side, while Wendel Manderly guarded their goal, a wise choice considering the stature of the man. Unfortunately for them, they still were quite inexperienced, and dribbling them was a piece of cake. That didn’t mean that scoring was a walk in the park, with Edric and Trystayne showing a lot of potential. Still, the score at half-time was unforgiving, as we led them six goals to two, with most players already exhausted.

As I moved to take a jug of water, I felt a big pat on the back. As I turned around, I noticed Prince Oberyn looking at me, sweating profusely, his long hair looking as if he just took a bath.

“Well, tell me not to doubt you again. That was quite fun, although I’d prefer if it was us winning.” He said between two pants. “And it is physically draining, I think we’ve earned this pause.”

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn.” I nodded. “And nothing is set in stone. Prince Trystayne is quite skilled, it’s only a matter of time till he gets his footing, you can still come back.”

The Dornish Prince nodded as well. “Aye, the young prince is quite skilled. And your squire too. Turns out the younger ones are doing better than us; I suppose it’s just me getting old.”

“Every man has his own strengths. Yours isn’t football, it’s sparring with a spear.”

“And what of your weaknesses, Jon?” he eyed me intently. “Do you have any? Aye, you do not fare well with spears or lances, but your swordplay is unmatched.”

I shrugged. “Every man has his own weaknesses. I’m but a man, I have some, but then would I not be an idiot if I revealed them?”

“True, true.” He answered. “Would one of those weaknesses be my niece by any chance?” Oberyn smirked. “Don’t worry.” He said as my face started emptying itself of any blood. “She’s told me everything. Including marriage. I must admit that my brother had explored a betrothal for her, but that man has died since, and I think he’ll think favourably on the match now.”

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn.” I nodded politely.

“But…”

“But hurt her in any way, shape or form and I’ll be either waking up in a bed filled with scorpions, poisoned in my sleep or at dinner or shafted by a spear. Do not worry, Prince Oberyn, I have no such intentions.”

Oberyn smirked. “I didn’t think you would. Still, better to warn you now.”

I nodded briefly, and Oberyn rose up to talk once more. However, he was interrupted by Ser Lyonel, the hawk master, who came rushing in behind me, startling the both of us.

“Erm, I beg your pardon, Prince Oberyn.” He stammered. “Lord Stark, Theon’s hawk has delivered a message of utmost urgency. Prince Oberyn, I believe a man of the night’s watch is waiting for you in the private meeting hall.”

The prince nodded with a surprised look on his face and hurried along to the private hall. I on the other hand, just followed Ser Lyonel to the rookery, where indeed, Hedwige was waiting. I quickly took the message from Ser Lyonel’s hands, rushing down to my chambers to decipher the sheet.

The first part was easy enough, that wasn’t coded, although it was still painful to read. So, it was war then. I’d heard about the conflicts brewing in the capital, but now with the North and Riverlands under fire, this had become a full-scale civil war. I’d heard Renly had amassed troops in the Reach and was marching to retake King’s Landing, while Tywin Lannister was still somewhere in the Riverlands. Now with Robb’s army on the march, this meant that the North was weakened as well, and in turn, all of Westeros. Reading further was tricky, as everything was coded in morse, but luckily, Theon had taught us to decipher it during our stay at Winterfell. The message read.

_Mvg Pyk. Fk Rob._

_Af obv nego fail, mvg Dftmrk. OPSL._

_Mvg Yki nxt. Dany Q. Nth Free._

_Need stop Qtyn. Need M supp._

Right, so that was the goal. Not Renly, not Stannis, not Tommen, but Daenerys. Well, to be fair that was a good choice, but now I could only hope that she wouldn’t turn super dark super-fast. Theon would help with that sure, but this was a big gamble. The North being independent was of course the best solution, there was no way in god damn hell that the northerners would accept the mad queen’s daughter after what happened to Brandon and Rickard Stark, the pact had been broken after all. As for the last part, that was quite unexpected, I don’t think Quentyn moving to meet Daenerys would be a bad thing, I’d just need to condition Quentyn for it.

The reason Theon probably wanted Quentyn out of the picture was so Operation Sea Lion could work without a hitch, but even with Quentyn, it would work anyways, well hopefully it would. Sea Lion would bring a huge blow to Stannis’ naval capabilities and in turn getting a fleet for Daenerys, her unsullied and her dragons to get back to Westeros as fast as possible, provided she doesn’t stay too long in Slaver’s Bay.

In fact, Quentyn going to Slaver’s Bay could actually be a life saver if I played my cards right. And it would get Doran off my back and bring in the Martells into the fray. However, that left the fact that despite everything, there was still the Reach and the Stormlands between us and King’s Landing, and I doubt Renly would be willing to cede the throne that easily. And Stannis was no idle threat either. Reports were that he had raised thirty thousand swords and started mini civil wars in both the Stormlands and the Reach. Problems, problems I pondered, before the door opened suddenly, shaking me off of a potential response I had to send.

“I’ll be on the field soon. I thought it had only been ten minutes.” I said, not even looking at the man who just barged into my rooms without even knocking.

“It’s…not…that.” Prince Oberyn muttered. His eyes were as wide as saucers and he seemed to have seen something truly terrible. His hands were shaking slightly, and his face was nearly devoid of colour. “You…you better come see this.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised at seeing Oberyn in such a state. Even in the direst of situations, he had this cocky and brash attitude, and never showed fear. The man before me however, was fucking terrified. What could have shaken him to the core like this? I wondered as Oberyn lead me down to the private hall, a small room sparsely decorated with only a man and a cage with a veil on top of it standing there.

Night’s Watch. Cage. It clicked. Shit, I braced myself as I walked forward, greeting the man all dressed in black.

“You of the night’s watch?”

“Aye, Lord Stark. Denys Fisher’s the name. Served with Lord Commander Mormont and your father at the Elk’s Pass.” The man clad in black answered

The Elk’s Pass. The famous battle where Ned Stark defeated the dead against immeasurable odds. He’d heard stories of it, and had been mocked for it, most dornishmen not believing in tall tales, but more and more stories about Iron Cages containing dead men had spread, and confusion had replaced laughter when talking about such a subject.

And now the lone cage was standing in front of me, a black veil covering its probably undead contents. I braced myself like I would brace for an impact of a car crash. And then the veil lifted, and hell followed with it. There it was, a vision of horror, an undead man, or at least I thought that was a man, with close to nothing left of skin or hair on it. Blue eyes, bright as the dornish waters, no nose and missing several teeth. Its right arm was battered, with the bone shattered in several places, yet the arm was still moving as if nothing happened. Its ribs were nearly all broken or damaged, sometimes containing the remains of its entrails or skin. Nothing could have prepared me for this, as the undead man shrieked and tried to run towards me, only restrained by the fact that the cage had iron bars, and the wight had no feet or legs. Yet these spectral hands still tried to lunge at me as it took all the courage I had to even step forward, resisting the urge to puke at the sight and smell of that…creature, its bright blue eyes meeting my own.

Then the veil removed that ungodly sight, and everything turned to normal once more, yet something had changed. The Ice zombies were real, wights were real, Ice Spiders, the Others, everything was fucking real. There isn’t any time left. Need to go north. Need the dragons. Need Ice, need fire. Need men, need dragonglass, need armies, need peace. Shit, we’re so fucked.

I stood there immobile, before turning to Prince Obery, who was sweating nervously again.

“Prince Oberyn, I think you, me, Arianne and that thing need to pay a visit to the Water Gardens. Fast.”

Oberyn acquiesced. “Tomorrow.” He said slowly as we both left the room in shock.

The rest of the walk back to the field was done in silence, neither of us willing to speak first. The corridors came and went, until finally the field came into view, with the game already having started again. I sighed as I made my way there but Oberyn stopped me with a hand gesture. Confused, I turned to face him, but before I could even mutter anything, he started talking in a slow voice, unlike his usually joyful but serious one.

“It’s weird, yesterday I thought everything, or close to everything, was good in the world. But now, now I don’t know. War is coming to us, whether it is the civil war that the Usurper’s death caused, or the war for the living. The war…” he breathed in heavily. “for our survival. Soon enough Dorne will have to enter the fray again, and if yesterday I would have welcomed it…now I fear it. I fear what will come of us, of these joyful faces, when we march on.”

I turned to answer but Alysanne cut us off.

“Ah, there you are!” She shouted enthusiastically. “Your teams have been waiting for you.”

“Jon, come on, Trystayne and Edric scored two goals already, they’re catching up!” Arya cried out.

Alysanne waved her off. “Come on back in and be happy for fucks’ sake. It looks as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that before turning to Oberyn.

“You’re right. We don’t know what comes next. But today let us smile and be happy, today we celebrate life and joy. Today we play and we have fun. Tomorrow we plan and we mourn. Today let us forget for a moment.” I looked up at the balconies surrounding the field as a small crowd had gathered. Amongst the crowd, Arianne was standing there in a red and gold dress like the colours of her house. She smiled down at me, and I gave her a smile in response.

“Come on now!” she shouted. “Are you going to let my little brother and my cousins defeat you so?” she laughed.

I turned to Oberyn, who was getting a similar treatment from his younger daughters, Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza. He turned around to face me with a small smile.

“Aye, I believe you’re right. Today, we smile. Let us save the rest for tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what was missing in Westeros? Football that's what. You know what was missing in ASOIAF fanfics? An SI teaching football to canon characters. Yeah the scene can be viewed as cringey, but I liked writing it. Anyways, this was a loooooong piece to write, 7k words, lots of things happening at once. Next part will be shorter, promise.  
> Also for you Jon/Ari shippers, I'm preparing a new fic for late August/beginning of September which will be an absolute ship fic (but with plot) between canon Jon and Arianne (yes, canon AGOT Jon, I believe it hasn't been done yet).


	22. Chapter XI, Part 3: A march for trouts / Edmure I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blackfish and his nephew(s) finally give battle before the walls of Riverrun

**Chapter XI**

**Part III**

**Edmure I**

It was dawn as Edmure scoured the horizon from the top of Riverrun’s battlements, as it was said the view from Riverrun’s ramparts was more than fifty leagues on good days. And for the most part that was true, it was a clear day with only sparse clouds in the sky, the view going on for leagues ahead of him. Right before him though laid hundreds upon hundreds of tents filled with Lannister soldiers. Between him and them, though, were what had held them up for so long. Trenches and battlements, each forming a solid first, second and third line of defence before the assaulters could even reach the castle. The first line had fallen, but the Riverlanders had managed to render the defences useless in case of a counter-offensive. The second line was bruised and battered, but held in several places. Still, this meant now only the third line stopped the Lannisters from the water separating them and Riverrun, which was where most of the Riverlander army was encamped. And with the Lannisters starting to drain the canals and rivers around the castle, the situation would be dire in a matter of months, if not weeks.

He hoped the northern host would have joined up with Darry and beaten back Tywin’s host, making time for the Royal host to move to relieve Riverrun, but the Darry fool thought he could take on Tywin Lannister head on. Idiot, if he had just held Harrenhal like ordered, Tarly would have linked up and the forces sieging Riverrun would have been taken between hammer and anvil. Now, the ten thousand northerners wouldn’t be able to stop Tywin from marching to King’s Landing, much less force Tywin’s forces at Harrenhal and Darry into submission.

The northern forces were now a non-factor and would only be useful in holding Lord Harroway’s Town at best, and Tywin would be able to send forces to and from the Golden Tooth and the capital with no opposition, having close to full control of the River Road. And this wasn’t counting on the fact that his host became weaker and weaker by the day. He needed a decisive win over the Lannisters, and fast.

As he continued to look over the endless stretch of tents, he didn’t notice a figure coming behind him.

“Worried?” the voice called out.

He jumped in surprise, quickly turning around to face a man whose face he instantly recognized, with his white beard and long hair.

“Uncle Brynden, you startled me.” Edmure answered him.

Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, clad in his black scaly armor, just shrugged.

“Walk with me, nephew.”

Edmure nodded and followed him down the ramparts, where agitation was building in the courtyard. Men and horses were moving towards the Water Gate, which was bustling with activity, boats being prepared for the journey to the third walls.

“The Lannisters have attacked?” Edmure asked, worried.

“No.” The Blackfish answered bluntly. “But the situation is critical now. Thanks to your decision of letting the smallfolk in, our supplies have reached the breaking point. If we could once hold this castle with two hundred men, you letting in seven knows how many smallfolk in has changed this situation drastically.”

Edmured frowned.

“I am the Lord of Riverrun. What kind of a lord am I if I cannot shelter, feed and protect my people?”

The Blackfish shrugged once more.

“Since your father died, you are the Lord of Riverrun and the Lord Paramount of the Trident. I am not here to question your decisions regarding your lands, Edmure, but I am the commander in chief of the Riverlander armies, and I did advise you not to let them in to not jeopardize our logistical situation.” Brynden sighed. “But what is done is done. Now I’m telling you that our supplies are stretched thin and we could only feed the smallfolk for another week before having to surrender the castle, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let my childhood home fall without a fight.”

Edmure nodded, but quickly made a surprised face.

“Why now, though? You said we still had a week of supplies, why attack now?”

“Ah.” The Blackfish answered. “That is my decision to make, but you’ll see soon enough.”

The older man then gestured him to follow him onto a boat, slowly leaving the walls of Riverrun behind. Edmure looked back with a tear in his eye at the castle where he’d spent his childhood, as it could very well be the last time he ever saw it. His uncle saw that Edmure looked different than usual, and asked him in his usual serious tone:

“Something troubling you, Edmure?” he chuckled. “Your wife’s pregnancy troubling you?”

Edmure looked at him surprised.

“Have you not heard? Roslin gave birth a week ago.”

“She did? I’m afraid I haven’t been focused on family recently.” He sighed. “I’m happy for you, Edmure, is it a boy or a girl?”

Edmure just waved him off, as the boat started moving along the still waters along Riverrun.

“If someone has to be sorry, it is me. I just assumed you had much to do, and I wanted to be close to her during these earlier days. In truth I didn’t spend much time out of our chambers before going up on the ramparts where you found me. I should’ve told you Roslyn gave birth to the newest heir to Riverrun.”

Edmure had his lot of surprises during his life, but none compared to the day when his father heeded the advice Ned Stark and her sister had given him, to marry him to a Frey girl to link the Tullys with one of their most powerful bannermen. When he heard the news, he’d instantly thought his father to be mad, to marry him off to a Frey, what was he thinking? Those weasels were all suck-ups and that old man Walder was always too ambitious for his own good, having his grandson or great-grandson one day rule Riverrun was a better prize than he could ever deserve. Yet he was forced into it anyways. Uncle Brynden had also opposed the match, but to no avail, both his sister and father supported it, and the wedding was organized in Riverrun.

Seeing the old man Walder was already a torture, the old weasel having gone down to Riverrun especially for the occasion, with his smug smile and ugly face. Edmure couldn’t wait for him to kick the bucket, and hoped that was the last time he ever saw him. His family was also insufferable, but he’d been pleasantly surprised by several members. Walder’s heir, Stevron, for one, was an intelligent and outspoken man, one that gained Edmure’s respect quite quickly. He was quite cunning, but never disrespectful or outright ambitious like his father, Edmure could only wish it was he ruling the Twins.

The young Olyvar Frey was also a nice lad, he had a keen mind for warfare and was good with the sword. And he was an honourable lad, not like the others. That one had gotten Uncle Brynden’s eye and he quickly took him under his wing, becoming his squire when Tywin invaded the Riverlands. No doubt Edmure would see him soon enough.

And then there was Roslin. She was small, but young and beautiful, with long brown hair reaching her waist. She was also soft-spoken, gentle and caring. Edmure had thought he’d marry a fat weasel-faced woman, unworthy of a Tully, but instead, he found himself unworthy of her. Never before he’d hoped he’d make a good impression on a woman, but there he was. For the whole wedding ceremony, he’d endured his new family, but the next few weeks had been the happiest in his life, the pinnacle being when Roslin told him she was pregnant. Then war came, and his father died a few days after Tywin crossed the Golden Tooth, leaving him Lord of Riverrun. His uncle Brynden did help with the army and tactics, but he’d been overwhelmed between work, training and family. He just wanted it to end, to be with Roslin and her newborn babe.

Then the boat hit the ground on the other side of the bank, and Edmure snapped out of his reverie, but the Blackfish stood firm in the wooden vessel, refusing to stand up as he eyed Edmure intently.

“You haven’t told me, what’s the boy’s name?”

Edmure smiled, rose and disembarked, setting foot on the grassy soil, before turning to a confused Brynden, who wobbled out of the small boat.

“Brynden. Brynden Tully, heir to Riverrun.”

“What?” the Blackfish asked in surprise. “Did…did you…”

“Aye, we named him after you.” Edmure said calmly, “besides I told you I would live to see Brynden Tully marry in my lifetime.”

Then Edmure saw something unexpected form upon the Blackfish’s face. It was a smile, which soon turned into a small laugh.

“I guess a Brynden Tully will indeed marry someday…” his smile quickly died down as he made a gesture to follow him. “But for that to happen we need to win this battle. The Lannisters tried to assault the West Fort yesterday, two hundred men sneaked in during the cover of darkness and tried to overwhelm it.”

“Did they succeed?” Edmure asked as he and the Blackfish moved to that position, a small wooden fort reinforced with pikes, trenches and moats.

“If they had, I’d have woken you up in the middle of the night to tell you to gear up.” The Blackfish walked to a wooden bridge, seemingly broken, that towered over what looked like a moat. “You might want to cover your nose, the stench is quite unbearable.”

Indeed, it was, as Edmure smelt a mix of faeces, piss and whatever other horrendous things men shat out from their bodies. He quickly brought a hand to his nose pinching it tight.

“The West Fort was lightly defended because it overlooked the moat where all the piss, shit and other vomit from the latrines of this side of the river ends up in. It’s quite deep, so I wouldn’t venture there if I were you.” The Blackfish said in a slightly high-pitched voice due to him pinching his nose that made Edmure want to burst out laughing. “The Lannisters therefore saw it as a weak spot, but apparently no one, not even the sellswords wanted to do that job. So, they sent their worst.”

Edmure looked at the broken bridge, and turned to the Blackfish.

“Did our men cut off the bridge before they got through?”

The Blackfish shook his head.

“No, the bridge collapsed under the weight of a very large man after a dozen men had overwhelmed the fort, the bridge wasn’t meant to hold that much weight. He and a couple others tumbled down there.”

Edmure tapped on the wood. Sure, it wasn’t solid, but it would be solid enough to hold a dozen people crossing it at a time.

“What kind of man could bring down this bridge? A fucking giant?” Edmure scoffed.

“Close.” The Blackfish then reached out for a piece of cloth with his left hand, showing it to Edmure. Edmure gasped in shock as he realized the sigil on the cloth, three black hounds on a yellow field.

“The Mountain.” He gasped.

The Blackfish nodded.

“His men got lucky, they managed to wiggle their way out of the moat, got shot by our men the second they got out as we retook the fort.” He brushed the cloth aside. “The Mountain that rides wasn’t so lucky. His armour and weight made it impossible for him to move around in the goo, he drowned in the piss and faeces of the riverlander army.”

“Terrible way to die.” Edmure shook his head as he and the Blackfish turned away from the fort and back to the main tent where a cacophony of sounds was heard. Meanwhile the Blackfish remained calm and indifferent.

“Meh.” He let out. “You won’t see me weeping over him. That man was a monster, I’m sure he’s enjoying the deepest pit of the seven hells along with the mad king. Come along now, we have a battle to win.”

Edmure nodded and followed his uncle inside the command tent, a large tent capable of hosting two dozen lords, flying the Tully trout. There, all the River lords were waiting, most already in their armour with their personal sigils engraved. His uncle looked around the room, probably to check if no one was missing, and quickly made his way towards the map laid upon the central wooden table, gesturing for the other lords to gather around.

“My lords.” His uncle started, in a serious voice. “As you know, our supplies our running short, we cannot possibly hold Riverrun anymore, we have to meet the Lannisters in battle today, hence why I called you all here.”

“Where are we to make for?” a voice Edmure identified as Ser Garse Goodbrook called out.

“You misunderstand me, Ser Garse.” The Blackfish answered with a scowl. “We do not run. Today we defeat the Lannisters. We’ve made them bleed out five thousand men already, and I damn well hope to crush Kevan Lannister’s forces today.”

“The odds are even.” Ser Andrey Charlton remarked. “But they’ll see us coming with the activity that has been bustling here.”

“Which is why I intend this meeting to be as short as possible.” The Blackfish answered, before laying his hands on the table. “As it stands, we have ten thousand men north of the Tumblestone, five thousand south of the Red Fork, and another five thousand at the Moat between the two.”

The Blackfish scoured the room, sharing a glance with everyone, including Edmure. He only nodded, as his uncle turned to the map, moving the wooden pieces along.

“We’ll attack the north side. Aye, it is where most of the Lannisters are located, but it is where we can make the most damage. Their assaults on the forts have been relentless and no doubt much of their host is tired. I’ll lead the force with my nephew.”

“Shouldn’t Lord Edmure be commanding the garrison of Riverrun?” Lord Stevron Frey asked.

Edmure stepped in. “Aye, I am Lord of Riverrun. Therefore, I am your liege lord, and as such I should be fighting with you, not cowering behind the walls waiting for the battle to end.” Edmure said sternly, surprising even himself. There was a time where he’d have taken that offer, but not anymore. He was Lord of Riverrun and he was damn well going to make the Tully line proud.

“The young trout shows some spine.” Lord Jonos Bracken said, as Edmure just ignored the comment, knowing the Bracken lord wasn’t pleased his father chose Roslin Frey over his eldest daughter, Barbara.

“He always had it in him, or do you doubt our liege lord’s valor?” Lord Tytos Blackwood countered. Seven hells, of course Lord Bracken’s comment would be answered by Lord Blackwoods. Those two have been going at it for generations.

“In any case.” The Blackfish cleared his throat, ending the petty discussion between the two “Me and my nephew will lead the host attacking Lord Kevan’s forces north of the Tumblestone, along with the northern force’s commanders. That means you, Lord Stevron, Lord Tytos, Lord Clement, Ser Robin, Ser Ronald, Lord Patrek, and yes, you too Lord William.”

The old lord of Maidenpool winced at the comment. No doubt he’d rather be cowering behind Maidenpool’s walls than being here at the moment.

He then turned to Lord Bracken, who gritted his teeth as his name wasn’t mentioned.

“Lord Bracken.” The Blackfish turned to the Lord of Stone Hedge. “You will have command of the Southwestern forces. Five thousand at your back.”

Lord Jonos immediately smiled.

“Do not fear, the Lannisters won’t cross the Tumblestone.”

“Actually.” The Blackfish held his hand up. “I want you to let them cross.”

Lord Jonos winced.

“I fail to understand.”

The Blackfish rolled his eyes. “I want them to be able to cross, I just don’t want them to be alive when they reach the northern shore. When they are sufficiently in the water, rain hell upon them with arrows and strike their rear, cutting off their escape. The chaos you orchestrate should be able to keep these forces at bay. But.” The Blackfish held his hand up, staring daggers at the man. “Do not take unnecessary risks for glory or honor’s sake. If you let the southwestern forts undefended, the Lannisters will storm them and outflank you, and a quarter of our forces will be gone. No unnecessary risks, have I made myself clear, Lord Bracken?”

“As clear as could be, Ser Brynden.” The Lord of Stone Hedge answered as Edmure noticed some pearls of sweat rolling down his face.

“Good.” The Blackfish answered. “Now, finally, the command of the East Bank is yours, Lord Vance. The Lannisters shouldn’t be able to cross the Red Fork, it is too deep close to the castle. Nevertheless, stop any attempts to outflank us should they arise, this includes crossing the Red Fork from the South. Do not engage their forces though, these ones do outnumber your forces, just hold your forts.”

Lord Vance nodded.

“We will hold, Ser Brynden.”

“Very well, I think this is everything. As for the main force, Lord Tytos, you will have the left flank, Lord Stevron will command the right and Ser Garse will hold the reserves while I command the centre. Now let’s get moving, I want to show the Lannisters what Riverlanders fight like in a proper battle.”

The lords all dismissed themselves instantly, running out of the tent to bark out orders to their men or re-join the boats to hurry to their command areas, leaving only Edmure and his uncle in the tent.

“Scared?” the Blackfish asked.

“I’d be lying if I wasn’t.” Edmure answered honestly as he and the Blackfish exited their tent to put on their armour and saddle up.

“’tis no shame to be scared before a battle. Every man is and copes accordingly. Even those who don’t show fear are actually just good at hiding it.”

“And are you scared, uncle?” Edmure asked as he put on his helmet.

The Blackfish shook his head. “I’ve grown past the age of being scared. Now when faced with battle, I rejoice, for death in battle will be a mercy compared to finishing like my brother, suffering alone in a bedchamber.” He shook his head again. “No offence meant.”

“None taken.” Edmure answered. “Father wasn’t much of a warrior.”

“Nay, he wasn’t. I fought his battles for him, and now I’ll fight yours. But I’m happy that you are by my side, my brother was never next to mine when I fought his battles.” The Blackfish said with a sad smile as he mounted his horse, quickly followed by his squire, Olyvar Frey.

Edmure didn’t know how to answer that, and just nodded. His uncle then turned to him, and smiled again.

“Which is why you’ll be a good lord of Riverrun, Edmure. Your father didn’t care about his people, neither did I to be honest. He only cared about his legacy, and that came by selling his daughters to the highest bidder. In a way, he didn’t care about family, unlike you. You know our words, family, duty, honour. Your father only cared about family, and only when it suited him. I must admit I followed these words to the letter, but too bluntly, I always cared about family but nothing else. You…” he turned to Edmure. “You care about much more. You love your family, but you know of your duty to the Riverlands and you are as honourable as it gets. I’m proud to fight with you today.”

“Uncle, I’m honoured.”

“Stand with me during this battle. I’ve lived past my time, unfortunately, all the good men have gone, although I’d hoped to fight the war to the north.” The Blackfish sighed. “But if I am to die today, let it be by defending the Lord of Riverrun. Stand with me. But promise me, if I tell you to run, you will run. Do not look back and damn well do not try to save me, understood?” the Blackfish said gravely.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Edmure answered. Seeing as this didn’t appease the Blackfish, he nodded. “I’ll do as you order, on the battlefield, you have command.”

The Blackfish nodded as their horses trotted down towards the field where the battle was going to start. Lord Kevan had managed to organize his forces splendidly in a short amount of time, as no less than ten to fifteen thousand westerlanders were aligned before them in good order. Edmure spared a look to his left, as he saw Lord Bracken’s arrows already painting the sky above the Tumblestone black.

He turned back to the Blackfish, who gave the signal for both the left and right to move in, as well as most units in the centre. Confused, Edmure turned to his uncle.

“Why aren’t we committing the whole centre? We have reserves.”

“I’m waiting for a signal.” The Blackfish answered cryptically.

Edmure watched as men continued to brawl on the field before them, the sounds of swords clashing becoming closer and closer. Edmure knew what this meant, they were being pushed back. Edmure shot a look to his left, where he saw Lannister men making their way out of the Tumblestone. Before he could say anything, though, his uncle turned to Ser Garse.

“Ser Garse, commit a thousand of our reserves to our left, stop any Lannisters from reinforcing their right! Slaughter them knee deep in water if you have to!”

The knight nodded and shouted orders, a thousand men quickly making their way towards the banks of the Tumblestone, while the rest of the centre stood still. His uncle was visibly unnerved, and Edmure noticed their offensive manoeuvre was failing.

“Uncle, we’ll get pushed back towards the forts and to the fucking river itself if we don’t act now!” he shouted.

The Blackfish stayed stoic, but his face quickly grew into a scowl.

“Come on, you fucking bastard, give the signal, fucking hurry up…” he mumbled.

Edmure continued to watch the battlefield. The right under the Frey’s command was holding strong, but Blackwood’s left and now the Mallisters and Tullys in the centre were beginning to break.

“Seven fucking hells, what is the boy doing, fucking his wildling while we fight here?” the Blackfish roared in anger. He turned to Edmure. “Fine, we’ll do it without them.”

The Blackfish turned and made a call for the rest of the centre to charge, keeping the reserves behind him and motioning Edmure to join.

“We charge now, fuck the signal, we’ll be pushed into the fucking river if we don’t reinforce them now.” The Blackfish lifted his sword and signalled the charge. “For the Riverlands, for Honour and for the King! Charge!”

Edmure didn’t know what really happened next. One moment he was standing on top of his horse next to his uncle, the next he was charging with his horse like a madman into the enemy lines. As he hit the Lannister centre, his lance cut through two Lannister footmen, before finally breaking. He looked to his left, where his uncle had already unsheathed his sword and began cutting a path through the Lannister forces.

Then he looked to the sky and shouted with a grin on his face.

“About bloody time!”

Edmure looked up and saw five golden eagles flying over the battlefield, followed by the sound of horses colliding in the distance. The distraction was all it took for him to find himself on the ground though, as his horse was skewered by lances and swords. He found his footing quickly, cutting down three Lannister soldiers who lunged at him, one managing to rip off a piece of flesh on his arm. He looked to his left, seeing his uncle standing strong, cutting down men half his age, with a vigour he’d never seen before, but quickly, he found out that more and more red coats were approaching his uncle.

Edmure roared and cut his way to his uncle, thrashing his sword about, killing or maiming a dozen soldiers before he finally got to his uncle, who was struggling to keep up with a knight with a flaming tree on his armour. Edmure then saw his uncle lose his footing and fall, barely parrying the man’s strike. Knowing he couldn’t gold much longer against his foe’s sword, Edmure lunged forward with his own sword, slicing the man through the throat from behind. Hardly honourable, but fuck it, this was war.

His uncle barely had time to register what was happening, that Edmure pulled him to his feet, but to his surprise, his uncle raised his sword. Edmure blinked in shock, and braced for impact, but his uncle’s sword ended up slicing a man ready to cut him down behind him.

“Never let your guard down!” his uncle shouted, picking up his sword and going back to slashing everything resembling a Lannister soldier.

Edmure did the same, furiously slashing around him, all the while calling out enemies to his uncle, who was mindlessly thrashing his sword around.

“Uncle, to your left!” Edmure shouted as a man clad in Westerling colours approached. The Blackfish turned around, his sword and the Westerling knight’s clashing, before the Blackfish expertly disarmed the knight, stabbing him in the gut.

“Uncle, to your right!” Edmure shouted once more as another knight in Swyft colours approached. The Blackfish turned around, and with a swiftness Edmure didn’t expect from a man of his uncle’s age, slashed across the chest of the Swyft knight.

Edmure looked around him as the battlefield darkened, more and more knights and footmen clad in red starting to lose ground. To be fair, he had no idea how long he’d been fighting on the field, but one thing was for sure, they’d beaten the Lannisters back slightly. But more and more just kept coming, why weren’t they retreating?

Then amidst the fleeing men, a vision of horror struck him. A beast the size of a horse leapt onto a Lannister soldier, tearing out his throat with a gash of his teeth, its grey fur soaked in blood. The beast turned to face Edmure, its fangs could easily rip him apart. Seven hells, what was a direwolf doing on a battlefield?

He then looked around as the screams died down and the men around him started cheering. They had won. The Lannisters were routed, their army scattered to the winds, with some knights of his retinue giving chase. He focused his attention back to the grey dire wolf, who eyed him intently. Edmure closed, his eyes, scared of what would happen next. Would the beast jump on him and tear him apart, like it did that Lannister soldier?

But he quickly regained his senses. If the beast wanted to attack, it’d have done so already, and soon the meaning of such a beast on the battlefield became clear. Around him were dozens of banners, including that of the direwolf of house Stark. Was it true that the Starks held direwolves as pets? He’d scarcely believed his sister’s letter.

“Edmure Tully, I presume?” a man approached him as Edmure sheathed his sword, hastily looking around for his uncle.

“Aye.” Edmure answered briefly. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

The man stepped in front of him, accompanied by two tall and bearded men, those ones Edmure wouldn’t like to pick a fight with. The man addressing him was tall, aye, but he wasn’t as heavily built. He did have curly auburn hair, and a small auburn beard, which made him recognizable. That and the direwolf on his armour.

“My name is Robb Stark.” The man answered. “Sorry to disappoint you, we chose to come to your aid instead of being sitting ducks at Darry.”

“Well you damn well fucked it all up!” Edmure startled and saw his uncle rise from behind him, blood all over his sword and armour. “What the fuck took you so long?”

The young Stark looked surprised.

“Took so long? I thought we agreed that you’d send in your centre only after the signal, which you did not do.”

Uncle Brynden was now seething. “What do you mean? If we’d charged then we would be so close to the fighting that we’d be able to see the colour of the westerlander eyes, and our armies could well have started routing already!”

“And we’d have gotten Lord Kevan and his retinue!” the young wolf protested. “Instead, when he saw our host coming, he had time to escape back to the Golden Tooth.”

“I’ll take Lord Kevan fleeing over three thousand dead riverlanders any day, boy.”

“Three thousand dead today, or five thousand dead tomorrow? Lord Kevan will be able to make it back and raise another host to aid his brother now.”

Edmure knew his uncle wanted to answer, but his rage had finally calmed, and he started relaxing.

“We’ll speak about this later. In any case, thank you for answering our call. The Lannisters have been defeated, but we need to count our losses, no doubt Tywin will be sending reinforcements here soon.”

“Aye.” Robb Stark answered. “You’re right. We can lay blames later, let us honour and bury or burn the dead today. Your riverlanders fought valiantly, we managed to capture five thousand Lannisters on the Southwestern side. The Eastern forces retreated to Harrenhal though.”

His uncle nodded, and made a move to speak, but was interrupted by a large man with a white beard, most of which was soaked in blood. He hurried up to Robb Stark, nodded to everyone, before whispering something in his ear that Edmure couldn’t decipher. Robb Stark’s face went white at the news, and Edmure thought something terrible had happened.

“You must excuse me my lords, it seems my wife is about to give birth.” The young wolf excused himself as he saddled his horse and kicked it back towards the forest where his camp certainly was.

His wife? Edmure thought, what kind of idiot brings his wife into battle? Are the stories true? Did he really marry a wildling as she brought him under a spell of the old gods? He was intrigued and turned to his uncle, who was as shocked as he.

His uncle didn’t say anything to him for a few moments, eyeing him intently, before finally laying a hand on his right shoulder.

“You fought well Edmure.” He sighed. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

“Thank you as well, uncle.” Edmure replied. “For you saved mine.”

His uncle then did something unexpected, something that hadn’t occurred in years, he hugged him tightly.

“I’m proud of you.” He whispered. And Edmure smiled for the first time since the battle started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this marks the end of Chapter 11. Since the three parts are kind of stupid, I'll just stop with them and make each part its individual chapter from now on, it'll make more sense. In any case next chapter will take us to the Iron Islands, where Theon is already done before hitting the shore.


	23. Chapter XII: Pyke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon goes to Pyke.

**Chapter XII**

 **Theon V**

  
Theon felt the sea breeze over the side of the galley and shivered. He’d hoped to be making his way to Meereen by now, but instead he was on this god forsaken mission his friend had given him to go to Pyke of all places. Not like he hoped the negotiations would go well, in canon Theon hadn’t succeeded, and even with hindsight, there wouldn’t be much he could do to stop Balon from attacking the North. And it’s not like it would work. In canon, the north was scarcely prepared, but now? Moat Cailin was invulnerable from the sea, he’d made sure of that. Torrhen’s Square and Deepwood Motte had been reinforced and thirty thousand wildlings had been armed to hold the Stony Shore. And this wasn’t counting on the thirty thousand men Ned held in reserve in case of an attack on the Wall. If the Ironborn attacked, it would be a slaughter. But still, Robb sent him anyways, and Theon cursed his friend for doing so. They were losing time, valuable time.

The journey from Seagard to Pyke was quick thanks to Lord Mallister’s sturdy ships. The old eagle of Seagard wasn’t the best company, but he had experience fighting in several wars, and was an able politician, Theon could only hope that the old lord could accompany them to Driftmark afterwards, and be made aware of Sea Lion. But Mallister could be a king’s man for all he knew, and since Stannis wasn’t an option anymore, god only knew where his loyalties lied.

Ser Wylis was much better company than Lord Mallister in terms of social interaction, the fat mustached man being jovial at all times, and loved cracking jokes. He wasn’t the most reliable politically, but he had good knowledge of the free cities and the way they operated, which greatly interested Theon. That man could be useful for what came next.

But as he saw the towers of Pyke loom in the mist, he knew that to go to Driftmark, he needed to get in and out of this island in less time that it took Robb to anger all of the North, which wasn’t going to be an easy task. What would his supposed father say when he’d disembark with an escort of a hundred armed men, a fat Greenlander and escort from a family that slew his brother? He could only imagine.

At least Lord Mallister would be staying aboard his galleys in case anything went wrong. Not like Theon expected him to do otherwise, he gave the Mallister lord the life expectancy of the Mountain in Dorne if he ever set foot on Pyke.

Theon watched as the galley docked on Pyke’s harbour and men started descending from the ship, with a banner of truce.

“We’re ready.” Ser Wylis signalled.

Theon nodded and followed the Manderly man off of the ship and onto Pyke’s docks. The return of the Kraken, he thought, let it be a short one and be out of here soon.

He spared a look at the harbour, already bustling with activity, but not the usual fishing or trading fleets, no. There were longships from every major house of the Iron Islands, from the Harlaws to the Farwynds. Time was indeed ticking, and running out very fast.

Suddenly, as he made his way towards the castle, a man stopped him. Theon eyed him up and down, he was tall and skinny, with a long beard intertwined with bits of dried seaweed. He was garbed in robes of green, grey and blue, the colours of the drowned god.

“Uncle.” Theon stated matter-of-factly.

“Nephew.” The man acknowledged. Theon stood silent, and so did the man, seemingly waiting for a question of some sort.

“I suppose the parley shall be held in the castle then?” Theon finally broke the silence that had been weighing on them for a good minute.

Damphair looked surprised. “Parley? Is that what you call meeting your father for the first time since the Greenlanders took you away?”

“I’ve been sent by the Warden of the North to discuss an alliance with the Lord Reaper of Pyke. Nothing more.” Theon crossed his arms, angered.

“So do you pray to the wolf gods now?” Damphair snickered.

“No.” Theon answered bluntly. He was an atheist anyways, and cared little for any faiths. The Seven, the Old Gods, the Lord of Light, the Drowned God, he didn’t care for any of them.

“Good. Kneel.”

Theon could see where this was going. Well, it didn’t hurt for him to get a baptism of some sort, not like he would care later on anyways. He quickly knelt in front of his uncle, who poured seawater on his head and mumbled a few words.

“Do you remember the words?” Damphair called out to him as he tried to focus on something other than the cold water running down his spine.

“What is dead may never die.” Theon answered, nearly rolling his eyes.

“What is dead may never die, but rises again stronger and harder. Stand.” His uncle commanded. Theon breathed a sigh of relief, and rose up to him, looking his uncle dead in the eyes.

“Now that this little ceremony of yours is done, may we go to Pyke? I fear we are pressed by time, and there are matters I must attend to.”

Damphair gritted his teeth at the near insult but instead of lashing out, he just nodded. Theon saddled his horse, and nodded to Ser Wylis, who stood confused, as both started trotting towards the castle.

“Why did you kneel to that man?” Ser Wylis asked.

Theon shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to. If a bit of saltwater on my face and back is what helps us make these negotiations bear fruit, then so be it.”

“You think your father will accept the alliance?”

Theon’s small smile died and he sighed deeply.

“No. But I’ll do my best.”

The Manderly heir nodded and didn’t talk for the rest of the way, as Theon slowly made out the features of Pyke’s large castle. The party quickly made its way through the portcullis as Greyjoy banners floated in the air around them, the courtyard now bustling with activity as their arrival had caused quite the stir.

A man with a grey beard and dark eyes welcomed them upon their arrival.

“Theon Greyjoy.” The man said sombrely. “Your father the Lord Reaper of Pyke awaits your arrival. He summons you to the dining hall.”

Theon nodded and gestured Ser Wylis and a few of his company to follow.

“Alone.” The man said angrily.

“These men come with me under a banner of truce to parley. They come with me.”

“Your father agreed to parley with you only, not with the Greenlanders.”

“Fine, they do not come with me into the dining hall, but they get to stay outside in case my father gets any ideas.”

The man grit his teeth angrily but finally nodded. Great, this was off to a great start. Theon hoped he’d let Manderly do the talking but it now seemed as he was going to try to reason with Balon Greyjoy of all people. Absolutely fantastic.

Theon made his way down the castle’s corridors and into a great hall, where Ser Wylis and his guards left him. Theon gulped as he pushed the doors of the dining hall, where the man he could only assume was his father stood motionless, watching the fire in his hearth.

“How long has it been? Nine years?” the old man called out, his voice resonating through the large room.

“Ten.” Theon answered.

“A boy they took, what are you now?”

Theon shrugged. “An older boy. Less stupid I’d hope.”

Balon didn’t react.

“Hmm. Ten years, then Stark has had you as long as I. Are you one of them now to come as an envoy to me?”

“One of them? No. But not one of yours either.”

“So, you deny being a Greyjoy?” his father shouted.

“I do not deny being a Greyjoy. I deny being what you are.”

“What I am?” Balon laughed. “And what am I?”

“A man that’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life.”

“A mistake! Hah!” Balon scoffed. “I’ve made countless mistakes throughout my life, but what I am about to do isn’t one of them. They really have turned your mind against us, haven’t they, these Greenlanders? You talk like them and dress like them now. See that armour you have; did you pay the blood or iron price for it?”

“Paid the same price as the price you paid for your Iron Fleet.”

Balon slammed a fist on the table, seething with rage, but Theon did his best to stay calm, he was getting to enjoy this.

“You!” Balon pointed his finger to Theon. “You come here with your Greenlander friends, a fat man and a hundred armed guards because you were probably pissing your breeches thinking about coming to face me! You come with a kinslayer to my shores and now you dare insult me?”

“I didn’t insult you. I answered your question. Now let us quit this family reunion and talk about what needs to be addressed and let us parley.” Theon answered sternly.

Balon only laughed more.

“Parley? So, is that why you return to Pyke after all these years? To be the wolf’s emissary and lapdog?” Balon scoffed. “The emissary of the Stark who managed to convince the realm dead men were real.”

“They are.” Theon stared at him angrily, remembering the dead man in the cage above the walls of Winterfell as he headed there for Robb’s wedding. It wasn’t a vision you could just forget, and he was fairly sure he pissed himself when he saw the man, or what was left of it. “I’ve seen one.”

“Mummery! Northern mummery! The Stark is manipulating his old friend and the realm to reinforce his own position and strengthen the North!” Balon screamed out.

“His old friend is dead. Stannis is king now.” Theon didn’t know that, but it was bloody likely considering the lack of news coming from King’s Landing.

“Good!” Balon snickered. “Only one more left to go. Now I am curious, what does the Stark wish from you?”

Theon grit his teeth. He knew this wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“You’ve heard of Tywin Lannister’s rebellion?” Balon nodded. “Robb Stark, Ned Stark’s heir is marching on Riverrun with a host of ten thousand. With Tully’s forces they will have routed the Lannisters by now. This leaves Tywin isolated from the Westerlands, and Stafford Lannister will have to go defend the Golden Tooth. The Westerlands is now a place free to reave at will. Kayce, the Feastfires, Lannisport, and most importantly, Casterly Rock.”

Balon stared at him for a moment.

“Casterly Rock has never fallen.” He stated bluntly.

“Aye. Well there is a first time for everything.” Theon answered. “Think of it father, the glory you will get when the Greyjoys will be the first to take and sack the Rock. Your names will live on through generations. And there will be gold, lots of gold, loot and salt wives.”

“So that is the Stark’s plan, send you to convince us to attack the Westerlands?” Balon laughed softly.

Theon sighed. Of course, the man was too blind, too focused on revenge. No, he wouldn’t be able to sway him.

“Should I tell him you refuse?” Theon finally answered.

Balon’s laugh died instantly.

“I will not be ordered to do anything, boy!” Balon screamed, making Theon take a step back. “The Stark thinks he can order me around like a dog! Well I won’t be ordered to do anything. No, I am the Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke, King of Salt and Rock, son of the Sea Wind, and I will take my crown as Urron Redhand did five thousand years ago! Then I’ll carve myself a kingdom, not in the Westerlands, no. Lannisport is a poor target, reaving it will be nothing new. Kayce, the Feastfires, Fair Isle, Casterly Rock. Good targets, yes, but Tywin Lannister is a cunning man, he’d never leave these targets undefended. No. I will carve my kingdom elsewhere.”

“You’re an idiot.” Theon told him bluntly.

Balon stood up from his chair. Slowly, but calmly, he closed in on Theon.

“Repeat. What. You. Just. Said.”

“You’re an idiot if you think attacking the North will work.”

“And what would you know of anything?” Balon screamed at him. “I will have my revenge on Eddard Stark and I will take his kingdom for myself.”

“So, you think you cannot hold Lannisport, but you can hold the largest of the kingdoms?” Theon scoffed.

“An empty kingdom. The Stark’s forces are at Riverrun. I will reave his coasts, take Bear Island and the Stony Shore and carve myself a piece of his kingdom, and then he’ll feel the wrath of a Kraken!”

Theon just laughed. “Oh, you fool! You utter, utter fool! Robb Stark has ten thousand men with him, Ned Stark still holds many more North! And what do you expect to reave there, tell me? Wood, more wood and perhaps even some furs of the lone deer you find? I’m sure these will be worthy prizes, much better than the mountains of gold of the Westerlands!” Theon then looked at Balon, who was seething with rage. “I told Stark it was a mistake to send me here, that you wouldn’t attack Casterly Rock because you were too craven to, you’d prefer attack small villages in the north, ones that aren’t defended of course.”

“You call me craven! You of all people call me craven!”

“I do! I, Theon Greyjoy, do hereby accuse you of being a craven, too scared about assaulting Casterly Rock because if he does, then Tywin Lannister will give him a big spanking because he was a naughty boy!”

Balon made a move to hit Theon, but Theon parried it before it could go anywhere important.

“I’ll disinherit you. You aren’t worthy of the title of heir to the Iron Islands.” Balon seethed.

“Go on. I don’t care. Give it to Asha and see how loyal your bannermen will be. Or maybe give the Islands to the Reader, he’ll do a better job than you. Or Victarion perhaps? He’s a half-wit but he wouldn’t hesitate one second to put himself in front of danger if it meant riches and glory.”

Balon made a move to hit Theon again, but once more, Theon made a move to parry the strike, stopping his father’s hand from hitting anything but air, but Balon carried on talking regardless.

“Once I’m done with the North, I’ll burn every single keep I find down to the ground and salt the earth so that nothing may grow there ever again.” Balon raged. “I’ll destroy Winterfell, I’ll take your father’s head and I’ll crown myself with his bones. What is dead may never die.”

“What is dead will stay dead.” Theon answered, lowering Balon’s hand slowly. “And you’ll soon find out that the direwolves had sharp teeth and claws. Your ironborn will be slaughtered, and when he’ll be done with you, the Stark will come for those shitty islands, and he won’t be as nice to you as he was last time.” He smiled.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Sight.” Balon screamed. “Run back to your Greenlander friends. From now on you are no Greyjoy but a Stark! Never dare to come back to Pyke again!”

Theon just smiled, unnerving his father even more.

“I didn’t plan to.” Theon finally answered, opening the door and motioning Ser Wylis to follow him. He spared one last look at Balon Greyjoy, who had pure hate in his eyes, before slamming the door to the dining hall.

“Ser Wylis.” Theon turned to the Manderly lord, who immediately caught his eye.

“Yes, Lord Theon?”

“We need to leave this island. Now. Have your men saddle up and be ready to ride for the harbour as fast as possible.”

Ser Wylis didn’t have to be told twice, as he sprinted down with him to the courtyard and quickly saddled up. In less than ten minutes they were out of Pyke castle and running down to the harbour.

“I take it the negotiations didn’t go well?” Ser Wylis shouted as they ran down to the harbour.

“That’s what happens when you call your father a craven and an idiot.”

“You did what?”

“I told him the truth. That he was a craven for attacking Casterly Rock and an idiot for wanting to attack the North.”

“He wants to attack the North? But we’ve…”

“Prepared for it, and there’s nothing of value. But my father is blinded by desire for revenge, and he won’t be satisfied with it until he’s burnt down Winterfell and executed Ned Stark.”

“And you?” Ser Wylis frowned.

“I’m not my father. Let’s get out of here.”

Ser Wylis nodded as they entered the harbour, where several armed men were blocking the road.

“Shit.” Theon said.

“We’re under a banner of truce, they wouldn’t dare.” Ser Wylis said.

“You’re talking to the people who think reaving and pillaging is a good and sane way of life.” Theon answered.

“Fair enough. Stand ready.”

The men in front of them unsheathed their swords and Theon’s blood drained from his face.

“Get to the ships!” Ser Wylis called as he thrust his horse forward. “Greyjoy, follow me!”

Theon nodded as he thrust his own horse after Lord Manderly, unsheathing his sword and cutting down any man on foot trying to stop him. Quickly he found himself on the docks but boarding with the horses would be too tedious. As he calculated ways of getting aboard, Ser Wylis made the choice for him.

“Fuck the horses, we’ll board on foot!”

Theon nodded and followed the Manderly knight, who was surprisingly agile for his weight, defeating several opponents with ease. Theon on the other hand was really, really bad with the sword. As long as he was on a horse sprinting through people, that was alright, but in close combat, that was another story. Still, he made his time with the engineers worth it as he managed to parry several strikes from one man before slicing his throat, and turning to another. He cut down three men before he found himself on the deck of Lord Mallister’s galley.

He watched as the harbour was now filled with Manderly and Mallister men fighting to board the docks as archers on board the vessel strafed the attackers with arrows. It took ten agonizingly long minutes for the last men to be dragged aboard, but soon enough Pyke was only a distant dot on the horizon. The ironborn had tried to block the harbour of course, but their longship was no match for Mallister’s galleys, who forced their way through with ease.

Still, they’d lost twenty men out of a hundred, losses that were definitely not needed, especially not when at war. All these resources for nothing, Theon thought, please tell me there will be some good news soon.

As if on cue, a voice called Theon out.

“Lord Theon, your hawk has returned, and it bears a message.”

“Thank you.”

Theon headed down towards his cabin, where indeed Hedwige was posted, an unopened scroll laid on the table, bearing the sigil of the Martells. A message from Dorne then, he thought as he carefully opened the scroll. As he read, a small smile started forming on Theon’s lips, and then a laugh. He laughed until small tears started forming on his cheeks. Well, although this certainly made things easier for everyone else, but for him, it would only be the beginning of a long journey. And he was really looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter this time around. Theon tried, but it was doomed from the start. Now he can go off on his main objective: Yunkai. Next chapter we head towards Torrhen's Square as Theon returns from Pyke and Ned convenes the lords after recieving several news from all over the realm.


	24. Chapter XIII: Torrhen's Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Theon reunite in Torrhen's Square.

**Chapter XIII**

**Eddard X**

Out of all the places Ned had expected to hold an emergency reunion of the remaining lords of the North, Torrhen’s Square definitely wasn’t on top of the list. Yet the worrying news from the Iron Islands couldn’t wait and the coastline had to be secured, and fast. Deepwood Motte, Barrowtown, Moat Cailin and Torrhen’s Square would be the primary targets for the Ironborn, and now with news from the south, an emergency meeting had to be called to deal with every threat.

Ned cursed inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to send Theon to the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy seemed to be hell bent on getting some kind of revenge in the series, even with Ned dead, and now with him alive, that resolve would only have hardened. Yet he’d been swayed by Robb who told him it didn’t cost them anything to do so, and he’d eventually given in, and now he’d nearly gotten his friend killed. Jesus Christ, Robb, can you use your brain for more than a few minutes? First the whole marriage affair, now this? I’m going to be running out of capital quite soon at this rate, Ned thought.

Anyways, Theon was on his way back and the information he, Manderly and Mallister had to share just couldn’t wait for them to come back to Winterfell. They’d managed to evade Ironborn ships south of Cape Kraken and anchored at Barrowtown, making their way towards Torrhen’s Square. It had been a day since Ned last heard of their party, and it wouldn’t be long till they’d ride into the fortified town. Ned looked out over the ramparts onto the nearby lake and road alongside it, hoping to glimpse the sight of riders approaching, but the fog was too thick, and beacons were out of the question with an Ironborn raid being a very strong possibility now.

Ned cursed Brandon the Burner for not having maintained a proper navy on the Sunset Sea. The Mormonts, Tallharts and Glovers held a few ships of course, but they weren’t like the Manderly galleys and hardly great for defence. They got the job done to ward off lone raiders, but engaging in a fleet action was straight out of the question. Another thing to note for after we’ve won the war, Ned thought. He’d have ordered a fleet to be constructed himself, but his coffers were running low. Money was needed to man the wall once more, to continue fortifying the northern castles, and now to ensure the Stony Shore was properly defended, there wouldn’t be a stag left to spend on a navy, not with winter approaching rapidly.

He was also running out of good men to hold the North with. Most of the veterans had gone south with Robb to ensure the alliance with the Tullys was fulfilled, a good decision, he thought as reports of the victory at Riverrun had reached Winterfell just a few days ago, but it had cost him most of his experienced fighters, save for a few. Theon, Manderly and perhaps even Mallister would go to Astapor as soon as possible, so having sound advice was now out of the window as well. Robb was south, not like his advice had been great already, and Jon stuck on the other side of the continent and likely dealing with his own issues. No, he was alone now, and he could only hope he would be up to the task.

Finally, a horn blew in the distance, far beyond Ned’s vision. He squinted, hoping not to see an Ironborn vessel emerge from the fog into the lake, but thankfully, all he saw was a hundred riders, in Manderly, Mallister, and oddly enough, Stark colours. Seems like Theon really didn’t want to associate with the Greyjoys anymore. Ned shrugged, not like it was his problem anymore.

He rushed down the stairs on the ramparts, who had been quite wet due to the downpour of these past few days. Combined with the fog, these stairs were now pretty much an ice rink, and after running down a few stairs, Ned quickly lost balance and tumbled down, only to be caught by Domeric who stopped him from going down a few feet.

“Steady there, Lord Stark!” Domeric called out, catching him before he could roll down a step. “These stairs are slippery, we wouldn’t want you to break your neck.”

“Thank you, Domeric.” Ned let out a sigh of relief. Out of all the ways to die in Westeros, Ned certainly hadn’t counted on falling down the stairs being a possibility. He could just imagine the picture: Ned Stark, who’d fought the mountain clans in the Eyrie, survived a war in the south, fighting on the Trident and at the Stony Sept, slayer of Arthur Dayne and whoever was down in that Tower, lord of Winterfell, slayer of Others and conciliator of the wildlings and northerners, killed by a slippery staircase in a shitty port city.

Ned didn’t dwell on it long, though, as he turned to Domeric at the base of the staircase, rushing towards the city gate.

“The riders are who we are expecting?” he asked the Bolton squire

“Aye, my lord.” Domeric nodded. “Lord Greyjoy, Lord Manderly and Lord Mallister are all alive and well but the Ironborn have slain twenty of their men in Pyke.”

“Damn bastards, killing people after offering guest rights.” Theon mumbled. “Right. Tell Lord Helman that they are to be cared for, I want this meeting to start as soon as possible.”

Domeric nodded.

“I’ll be as swift as the wind, Lord Stark.”

“See that you are, Domeric.” Ned saw the boy turn his heels and run towards the gate where Lord Tallhart was already likely debating how he was going to house a good hundred men. “Oh, and Domeric.”

The Bolton squire turned around, confused.

“As you may notice, your chambers are next to mine, and this isn’t Winterfell. The walls of the guest chambers are made of wood, not stone. Next time you spend the night with your wildling girl, do have some mercy for an old man’s sleep and quiet down or do it earlier.”

Domeric blushed at the comment.

“I’ll…I’ll work on it, Lord Stark.” He then turned his heels and ran off to Lord Tallhart before Ned could mutter another word.

Ned shook his head. He’d expected to be at least able to sleep properly here, but Torrhen’s Square’s thin walls had seen that he hadn’t been able to get much sleep these past few nights thanks to Domeric. Damn he missed the days where Jon was his roommate.

Ned shook his head once more, then noticed that Theon hadn’t welcomed Lord Tallhart’s hospitality and just made a clear B-line towards him. Ned quickly embraced his friend, as they both shared a look of dread and relief.

“Ned. I swear to god if you send me on another one of these suicide missions, I’ll just fuck off to Essos without your permission and bring Daenerys back alone if I fucking have to.” Theon started as he broke the hug. “Damn you guys nearly got me fucking gutted!”

“I didn’t expect that much of an overreaction by Balon, to be quite honest.” Ned responded as he took Theon inside, out of the fog and into the wooden castle that was the seat of House Tallhart. “I’d expected the negotiations to not go well, but for him to try and kill you…”

“Yeah that’s what you get for insulting him, I guess. But still, stupid idea. And I bring news.”

“The news from the Ironborn can wait for the meeting of the lords tonight. We’re going to have to accelerate things, including your mission to Astapor.” Ned quickly replied, cutting Theon off while leading him to a small room with a window overlooking the town’s main square. Ned then turned to Theon with a worried frown. “Unless it’s urgent?”

“I’m glad Sea Lion has been pushed forward, but it’s not about the Ironborn, it’s from Jon.”

Ned blinked as Theon handed him a scroll with a Sun and Spear seal attached to it.

“You might want to read this.”

Ned carefully unwrapped the seal, but before he even began reading, he gestured Theon to take a seat.

“Be careful, Theon. These walls are thin, do not talk about any sensitive information, we might risk being overheard.” Ned turned to his friend who nodded, and reached for another scroll in his pocket.

“I almost forgot. This is the most important part, but it has to come after this letter.” Theon replied as he tended him another scroll, marked with both the direwolf of the Starks and the Sun and Spear of the Martells.

Ned nodded and took it, but began reading the first scroll, decoding it as he read it.

_Dear Theon and Ned,_

_If you read this letter, it’s because I finally made up my mind about the Throne. I will not be pursuing it as we have previously discussed, that much is certain. I also have to inform you that I might have done something stupid._

Ned frowned, another problem to deal with wasn’t the most welcome right now.

_I might have fallen for someone. Well, no, I have fallen for someone, and now I fear that I won’t be returning North anytime soon. I will ask for her hand and I have good reason to think that her father will accept. We must waste no time, the pack must be united and so must Westeros. An alliance must be made and I must play my part. We need the Martells to join the Restoration Alliance, and by marrying Doran’s daughter, I intend to secure Dorne once and for all. This is a risky move, but she and I have discussed it and consider it the best course of action for us all. I know what is coming North and I will not abandon you._

_Yours truly, Jon Stark._

Ned was completely baffled. Jon getting married? Who the hell was this woman and what had she done with Jon Stark? First Robb, now Jon, it seemed like weddings would come in a series for the Starks, just not the ones he thought would be married first.

“What’s her name?” Ned asked Theon, completely baffled.

“Arianne. She’s the heir, remember? Turns out you’ll get your wish of a marriage with the heir to Dorne after all.” Theon answered. “Not my type of woman, didn’t think she was Jon’s type either.” Theon scratched his head. “Didn’t think she’d fall for Jon either, though I must admit I skimmed over her chapters, the whole Myrcella arc was kinda meh.”

“Right, right.” Ned started to remember. Arianne was the first, Trystayne was the one married to Arya, and there was Quentyn, that’s the middle one who went to Meereen and got killed. “So that’s good for us, right?” Ned asked.

“Depends.” Theon replied. “He’s going to need to convince Doran and for that he’s going to have to reveal his identity and hope Doran tried to have his blood on the throne through him. And we have to hope Oberyn doesn’t have the sudden urge to gut him right then and there.”

Ned sighed. “Well it’s in Jon and fate’s hands now. What about the second scroll?”

“It’s an official declaration.” Theon answered. “No code involved, and I need it back.”

Ned nodded as he started reading.

_I, Jaehaerys Targaryen, trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen as witnessed by the honourable Eddard Stark, sixth of his name, King in the North, Lord Howland of House Reed of Greywater Watch and Lords Martyn and Edric of House Dayne of Starfall and raised in Winterfell as Jon Snow, do renounce all claim to the Iron Throne under certain conditions._

_I forfeit my rights to the Iron Throne to my aunt, Daenerys Targaryen, the mother of dragons and the true Queen of Westeros. I will not challenge her claim and neither will any of my children as I abdicate any rights to the Iron Throne for the title of Prince-Consort of Dorne through marriage to Princess Arianne Martell._

_We only ask that no retributions be made against the newly formed Kingdom of the North by the new Queen, or to any member of Houses Tully and Arryn that haven’t done anything against her grace or her followers personally, and the recognition of said Kingdom of the North by her grace Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, following the breaking of fealty her father made when he executed both Rickard and Brandon Stark under false pretences, breaking the pact made with Aegon the Conqueror and thus forfeiting House Targaryen’s rights to the North._

_Signed, Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, also known as Jon Stark. As witnessed by Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell of Sunspear, Lady Allyria of House Dayne of Starfall and Princess Arya of House Stark of Winterfell._

“Do you think it’s going to be enough?” Ned asked his friend as he eyed the letter carefully, returning it to Theon.

“Probably not, but you’re sending me there to convince that person, no?”

Ned nodded.

“Aye.” Ned sighed. “And that’s what we’re going to have to announce at the council in a few minutes.”

“You mean you will have to announce that.” Theon patted him on the back as he made a move to exit the room. “Well, let’s go then.”

Ned nodded and exited the wooden room, making his way towards the ramparts and the central hall, where the lords of the north had gathered, well the rest of them anyways. As he entered the hall, everyone rose up as Ned continued to make his way towards the centre of the room. Looking around, he watched as most of the lords sat back down, some upon wooden chairs and benches, and some straight up upon the tables of the room. Indeed, the guest hall of Torrhen’s Square wasn’t designed to hold that many lords, and lacked a lot of seating.

Domeric rushed to him, handing him several scrolls. Ned untangled them and placed them upon the stone table before him, before gesturing the lords that hadn’t sat down to do so. Theon sat down to his left, along with Wylis Manderly. Helman Tallhart, the Lord of Torrhen’s Square, sat to his right, along with Roose Bolton and Maege Mormont. These were the two most experienced commanders Ned had, the rest having followed south.

Ned still didn’t trust Roose Bolton, but he’d warmed up slightly to the leech lord. He wasn’t exactly pleasant company, but at least he wasn’t plotting with Freys and Lannisters, Ned had his own network of spies working on ensuring Roose didn’t get any iffy ideas. Maege Mormont was much better company, although less experienced in battle than Roose, she was still a warrior, and Ned needed her advice for the war to come, especially the scuffle against the Ironborn, since the Mormonts had been fighting the Ironborn for hundreds of years now.

In the room stood most lords of the north that hadn’t gone south with Robb, or had other duties elsewhere. Jory Cassel represented his family at the same time as being one of Ned’s sword shields, Rodrik having stayed at Winterfell to train the new recruits for the Wall. With Medger Cerwyn gone south with Robb, it is his son Cley that represented him here, while Barbrey Dustin represented the Dustins especially since Barrowtown was now a primary target for Ironborn raids. Both Robin Flints were here, their forces having been totally kept by Ned to ward off a possible Ironborn attack, while Larence Snow represented the Hornwoods, Halys being at the Wall with the Northern reserves while Daryn was at the Stony Shore training the wildlings with Mance Rayder.

The Karstarks were represented by Harrion Karstark, Rickard Karstark’s eldest son, the old lord of Karhold having gone south with his son Torrhen. Eddard Karstark was still in Karhold with his uncle Arnolf, while his daughter Alys was in Winterfell. Rodrick Ryswell represented his house, having stayed with the reserve cavalry, although this did not amount to many troops, and the Smalljon represented house Umber while his father was fighting south with Robb’s army and his uncle prepared the defence of Last Hearth. Finally, Galbart Glover represented Deepwood Motte, worried with the Ironborn threat as the castle was likely under threat now. A wildling was also present, with Rayder absent, it was Sigorn of Thenn who was chosen to represent the free folk at Torrhen’s Square. Ned expected to face a cannibal savage, but actually found a well-mannered man, clean shaven with war paint on his face, wearing bronze armor and a light bronze sword.

There were also a few non-northerners present, with Brynden Blackwood and Jason Mallister representing the Riverlands, Mya Stone and Albar Royce representing the Vale, Tyrion Lannister representing himself rather than the Westerlands, and finally a newcomer, whom Ned didn’t recognize, but Tyrion did say had information regarding the situation in King’s Landing.

“My lords.” Ned finally rose up. “If I have gathered you here, it is because our situation has changed drastically. As you know the Ironborn have rebuilt the Iron Fleet. Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself king and is now hell-bent on claiming the North as part of his new kingdom.”

The room started mumbling, and Theon silenced them by starting to speak.

“The negociations with my father didn’t go well. Our party was attacked on Pyke and several Manderly men were slain.” Theon said as he turned to Wendel Manderly who nodded. “We managed to escape thanks to Lord Jason’s intervention, but my father has renounced me. I am now no Greyjoy, he has declared me a Stark. He does me great honor, I do not wish to be assimilated to him any further.”

“Hear, hear!” a few voices rose up as some lords clapped.

“The Kraken is now a wolf.” Lady Mormont chuckled. “Well, that is quite the surprise.”

“And what proof do we have that he won’t turn to betray you?” Tyrion Lannister asked.

“If I wanted to betray you, I’d have stayed on Pyke or given the plans to the Moat to my father. Instead I spit in his face and he disinherited me, is that enough for you?” Theon asked annoyed.

Tyrion didn’t have time to answer as Ned cleared his throat.

“In any case this means war. Another war we do not need.” Ned spoke up. “The war to the north must remain our utmost priority, but we have to face the new reality, our western shores must be secured. Deepwood Motte, Barrowtown, Moat Cailin, Bear Island and Torrhen’s Square along with the Stony Shore must be reinforced.”

Lords Glover and Tallhart and Ladies Dustin and Mormont nodded.

“I’ve sent only fifteen thousand men south.” Ned continued. “This means we have a reserve of thirty thousand men here, plus a hundred thousand of the free folk.”

A few growled at that last party, but Ned pressed on.

“I won’t uncommit our whole reserved from the Wall, but I will send five thousand men to reinforce Deepwood Motte and Torrhen’s Square, there are the most lightly defended places.”

“What about us?” Lady Dustin questioned.

“We have a thirty thousand of the free folk on the Stony Shore if my estimations are correct. A bit too much to defend a few fishing villages. In any case they are being rearmed, will they be combat ready anytime soon, Sigorn?”

“We’re the free folk, we’ve been combat ready our whole lives.” The Thenn sighed. “But with proper weaponry, I’d say within a moon if everything goes to plan.”

Ned nodded. “Good. Bear Island will be reinforced with ten thousand, a further five thousand will reinforce Barrowtown and five thousand more will head to Moat Cailin while the rest stay on the Stony Shore.”

“You expect us to ally with wildlings?” Lady Dustin protested.

“Well I can’t really pull soldiers out of my arse.” Ned answered. “The free folk are the only reinforcements we have. As I’ve said, I cannot commit the reserves, we need veterans on the wall. Again, you can refuse the reinforcements and I can try to raise a new host from the smallfolk, but they won’t be as experienced.”

“Fine.” Lady Dustin conceded. “The wildlings it is.” She said with a snarl.

“We cannot fight the Ironborn at sea. But we can burn their ships to the ground when they land.” Theon Greyjoy added. “Cut off any chance of escape, set fire to their longships with flaming arrows when you see them, then massacre them where they stand.”

“The Ironborn do not fear death, that is their weakness.” Lord Mallister spoke up. “They’ll just run at you in full force. If we have good weapons to resist sieges or sound tactics, it will be easy to beat them on land.”

“I agree.” Ned answered. “But even then, they’ll be upon us soon. We need to organize our defences as soon as possible. Lady Maege?”

“Lord Stark?”

“I need you to send a raven to your daughter Alysanne. Tell her to make Bear Island impregnable and to be ready for an Ironborn raid soon. Once you are done, you will rush to Barrowtown and lead the defences there with Lady Dustin.”

Maege Mormont nodded. “I will serve, Lord Stark.”

Ned turned to Roose Bolton then.

“Lord Bolton, you will come with me to Deepwood Motte along with Lord Glover. Deepwood Motte is the least defended of the castles mentioned, and we will need to lead the early stages of the defence there. Sigorn will accompany us with a thousand men of Rayder’s free folk.”

Lord Bolton nodded and mumbled something uncomprehensible.

“Lord Tallhart, I trust you can manage the defence on your own. In any case, Lord Ryswell will assist you with manning the defences of the city.”

Lord Tallhart nodded, while Lord Rodrik bragged about “kicking Ironborn arse back to their forsaken islands”. Ned could only hope it would work; he was running out of men quickly, and good men couldn’t be replaced.

“Now.” Ned continued. “Onto what matters most. The war in the south. As you know, our forces and our Riverlander allies have scored a great victory at Riverrun.”

Celebratory screams could be heard across the room, but Ned didn’t let them last.

“Unfortunately, I bear ill news as well. Robert is dead and Renly Baratheon has been slain at Storm’s End, by his own brother.”

Shocked faces quickly replaced the celebratory ones.

“Stannis slew his own brother?” Rodrik Ryswell asked. “In battle?”

“No, with blood magic.” The news of Robert’s death seemed to be completely ignored. It wasn’t like many thought him to be alive by now anyways. “A shadow with Stannis’ face slew him in front of several witnesses.” Ned continued as he handed a scroll to Roose Bolton, who examined it.

“Blood magic? Aren’t the Reachmen just mad that they’d been defeated in battle and Renly slain?” Lord Cerwyn questioned.

Roose Bolton shook his head and passed the scroll to Maege Mormont who bleached at the signatories on the letter.

“Aye.” Her voice quickly rising in the room. “It has been signed by Olenna and Loras Tyrell, Mathis Rowan and Arys Oakheart alright.”

“Hah! Reachmen lies then, Lord Cerwyn is right!” Harrion Karstark stood up.

“It has also been signed by Brienne of Tarth, a Stormlander, Robar Royce, a Valeman, and…” Maege Mormont paused for a moment. “…and Catelyn Stark.”

The room gasped for a moment, as Maege Mormont passed the scroll around. Ned just turned to Albar Royce.

“Lord Royce, forgive me, but would your cousin lie in any way?”

The Vale lord shook his head.

“I knew Robar since he was a boy, he would never lie. He is an honorable man, and a knight. He would never lie about something like this.”

“And I doubt my wife.” Ned blurted out the words but nearly died laughing while mentioning Catelyn “Would lie about something like this.”

“The question is why would Lady Stark be at such a negotiation…” Rodrik Ryswell continued

“Believe me. If I knew, I’d tell you.” Ned answered, drinking a cup of water before continuing. “In any case, Stannis has rallied the Stormlands and the Crownlands as well as parts of the Reach. He’s declared the Tyrells traitors to the crown and destituted them of the paramountcy. The Reach is now a wildcard yet again. Worse, he’s somehow managed to repulse Tywin Lannister’s attempt at taking King’s Landing.”

“What?” gasps erupted around the room.

“But Tywin had five times the numbers Roland Storm had to defend the city! How did he repulse them?” asked Lord Mallister, dumbfounded.

“Blood magic. Again.” Tyrion Lannister answered sombrely. “Boy, come here” the Imp gestured for a young boy to come, the one Ned didn’t recognize when entering the room. The boy was tall, heavily built, with blue eyes and thin, black hair. The spitting image of Renly Baratheon with shorter hair, he heard someone whisper.

“What is your name?” Ned questioned.

“Gendry, mi’lord. Gendry Waters. I…” the boy hesitated for a moment but Tyrion urged him on. “I am the late king Robert’s bastard. One of them anyways. My mother worked at an alehouse, she was a commoner you see. I worked as a blacksmith for Tobho Mott, until Stannis came to find me…”

“You’re a long way from home, Gendry.” And not at all what I expected you to look like, Ned wanted to add. “How did you end up here?”

“Stannis Baratheon took me in during his regency in the capital, he brought me to Storm’s End to serve as a blacksmith in his army. There, his red woman, after killing Stannis’ brother with blood magic wanted to sacrifice me to her fire god. Said I had king’s blood in my veins, that Stannis needed me to die to save the capital from his enemies.”

People gasped in shock as Gendry fumbled slightly.

“Go on.” Ned urged the boy.

“His hand, Lord Davos Seaworth, he helped me escape. Said he wasn’t going to let an innocent die. He pleaded your lady wife to send me here, and she did. Sent me with a few men who were homesick from down there up to White Harbor where Lord Tyrion and Mya welcomed me. I came straight here afterwards.”

“Hang on.” The Smalljon interrupted. “You said he wanted to sacrifice you to the red god to stop Tywin from taking the capital, but you are still here and Tywin flees from the capital. What happened?”

“This would tie in with this raven.” Ned passed it to Lord Bolton who skimmed over it, passing it to Lady Maege without a second thought. “He took Storm’s End, where Joffrey Waters was held. He was burned alive outside the castle walls in front of all of Stannis’ army as a sacrifice to the lord of light by Stannis’ red priestess, a blood sacrifice to stop Tywin from making it to the capital.”

Good riddance to that little shit, Ned thought, but still, burned alive by Stannis Baratheon…a chill went down his spine. Pretty bad way to go.

“Seven fucking hells…” Wendel Manerly blurted out.

“Still…a shadow…then blood magic…this doesn’t make sense.” Brynden Blackwood said aloud.

“We’ve got dead men over the wall, wights beyond the wall, direwolves in Winterfell, and you tell me a shadow with a dagger and a blood sacrifice doesn’t make sense?” Theon retorted, silencing the young riverlord.

“With Stannis being completely mad and a kinslayer, Renly Baratheon dead, and Tommen Waters a bastard…” Rodrik Ryswell shook his head. “Where does that leave us?”

“Fuck it.” Lord Tallhart stood up. “We bent the knee to the Targaryens because they had dragons. We bent the knee to the Baratheons because Robert was your friend, Lord Stark. But now they’re dead, and I say fuck it! Let us rule ourselves like we used to three hundred years ago!”

“Aye!” Maege Mormont rose up in turn. “No southern kings went to help us when we showed them what we were facing at the Wall. No southern king ever cared about the North, only northerners ever cared about the people of the north. I say we bow no more. I say we name Eddard Stark the King in the North!”

“I must agree with my fellow lords. We have endured and lost too much to the south.” Rodrik Ryswell stood up, unsheathing his sword and brandishing it into the air. “Lord Stark led us during the Rebellion, during the Greyjoy Revolt and beyond the wall to fight the dead. He’s more of a king than all the southron ones. Eddard Stark, the king in the north.”

“The king in the north!” the room resonated with swords being drawn into the air and fists slamming on tables.

“The king in the north! The king in the north!”

Ned couldn’t believe his eyes. What had been a deathly silent room a few moments ago was now bursting aloud with screams and shouts. Without even Theon’s help to give them a push, Ned had been crowned king. King in the North. Ned felt a jolt of pride and relief for sure, but also a jolt of fear. Getting named king was the easy part, and now came the hard bit.

He rose up as the room died down slightly, and observed the foreign lords who were eyeing him expectantly, as if awaiting their fate.

“My lords, I am honoured by your word. You are right, the south has failed us time and time again. The Targaryens have broken their pact with us, and now the Baratheons are a dying line. I will accept the crown and do my utmost to protect the North and its people from any threats it will face, may it be from the south, the west, the east or the north, that I swear to you.”

Applause and cheers rang throughout the room, but Ned dropped his smile and turned serious once more.

“But you’ve seen what lies beyond the wall. We as the North cannot defeat the enemy alone, we need the kingdoms to be united to face this threat. We need a king on the Iron Throne.”

“You mean to declare for Stannis then?” Wendel Manderly asked, disappointed.

“No.” Ned answered. “Stannis is a kinslayer, and as fit for rule that he is, he is also a fanatic, his first order as king being to burn the sept on Dragonstone, and the second to burn both the sept and the godswood in Storm’s End. No. I will not bend to a religious nuthead. I do not wish to see our thousand-year-old weirwoods reduced to dust. But we need someone to rally behind.”

Ned thought about revealing Jon’s heritage right then and there and going on to talk about his resignation, but the truth was that it didn’t mean a thing. Hell, the northern lords would then press Jon’s claim ahead of Daenerys’ and that would just cause unneeded conflict. No, he needed to get straight to the point, and the Smalljon provided that opportunity.

“Then who do we support?” the Umber heir asked.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” Ned answered sternly, causing the room to go into huge uproar.

“The mad king’s daughter, you cannot be serious Ned!” Maege shouted.

“We don’t have a choice!” Ned shouted. “The girl has three fully grown dragons!” A lie, by now they would still be young, although still of respectable size. “What do you think she’ll do to the kingdom that was responsible for her family’s downfall? I’d be lucky if I didn’t end up burned alive or eaten by one of her beasts.”

“You mean to bend the knee like Torrhen did?” Helman Tallhart asked.

“No.” Ned answered. “I won’t. The pact of Ice and Fire made upon the banks of the Trident has been broken, and I intend to make her aware of that. But I also intend to not make an enemy of her considering what forces are backing her.”

“How will you convince her? She will want to keep all seven kingdoms with no exceptions.” Barbrey Dustin asked with a sly smile.

“I’ll be sending Theon Greyjoy, Wendel Manderly and Lord Jason Mallister on a mission to Meereen to enter talks with the Dragon Queen.” Ned sighed. “They’ll have the task to bring her back to Westeros and convince her to accept the deal that I’m offering her.”

“And what deal would this be?” Roose Bolton asked.

“An offer she cannot refuse. Westeros on a silver platter. In return she will acknowledge the North’s independence and fight with us against the dead.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Harrion Karstark objected. “Our Riverlander allies won’t be happy we’ve sold them to the Targs.”

Jason Mallister shrugged.

“The Riverlands independent would be an easy target, and as part of the North, they’d be hard to control.” He shook his head. “No, the Riverlands will be better off in a stable, centralized kingdom where we don’t have to worry about where the next threat comes from. Lord Tully will see that and he’ll follow your advice.”

“And the Vale?” Domeric Bolton asked.

“I fear we don’t have much of a choice either, the Vale can hardly self-sustain itself and lacks much of the geography of the North to keep us independent for long.” Anbar Royce answered. “But our political situation is degrading, hence my presence here.” Ned nodded, and urged the Royce lord to continue. “And if we can avoid every keep in the Vale being burnt to a crisp, we’d do it happily.”

“And the Westerlands?” Tyrion Lannister asked.

“Part of the deal does end up with you being Lord of Casterly Rock.” Ned answered, earning quite a few glares from the room.

“Casterly Rock…hum.” Tyrion thought to himself. “An interesting offer, I will dwell on it.”

Ned rolled his eyes, not like he had any choice in the matter anyways.

“So, what do we do now?” Maege Mormont asked.

“We destroy the Lannisters, Tywin is too cunning a man to be left to roam free in the kingdoms. Then we move onto the capital and secure it for the Dragon Queen in exchange for her help in the war to come. I will have a raven be sent to Riverrun to inform the rest of the lords of our decision here.” Ned answered sternly yet again.

“Do we really need her help in our war to the north?” Sigorn of Thenn asked “Shouldn’t we have enough men here?”

“You were at the Elk’s Pass weren’t you? We were nearly slaughtered to the last man despite us having fire and a host of five thousand to a small walker raiding party.” Ned eyed the wildling coldly. “Daenerys Targaryen has three fire-breathing dragons capable of burning entire keeps down in a few seconds. You’ve seen what fire does to the undead, now imagine a dragon. This would give us an undeniable advantage over the walkers.”

Many lords nodded their heads, Ned knew that he’d made his point, the dragons could be a perfect tool to beat the Others if well utilized.

Rodrik Ryswell sighed.

“I guess it is for the best.” The lord with the stallion sigil said softly. “If we maintain the integrity of the North, and our freedom, by handing the capital over to the Dragon Queen then so be it. I do not wish for the Rills to be burnt to the ground. And you’re right Lord Stark, we won’t be able to stop the Others alone, we need help, and we need the realm to be united.”

“Aye, I agree.” The Smalljon replied. “I also do not wish for Last Hearth to be reduced to dust, and if I can avoid that without kneeling, I’ll take any chance I can get. So, what happens now, how do we get the girl here?”

“As I said.” Ned addressed the room with a small smile “Theon Greyjoy, Wendel Manderly and Lord Jason will depart with a fleet for Meereen as soon as possible. You might hear rumours about the Dragon Queen’s whereabouts, but make no mistake, Meereen is where she will be heading. I also wish for you to make a stop somewhere.”

“Where would that be?” Wendel Manderly asked.

“Driftmark.” Theon answered with a smile, and Wendel’s face illuminated.

“That’s…that’s a great plan!”

Lord Mallister nodded. “As great of a plan as it is, I’m afraid I am loyal to the Tullys first, I will need my lord to draft these orders, Lord Stark, no offence meant.”

“Aye I agree.” Ned answered. “But now every single minute matters, and getting an answer will take time and we don’t have it. We’ll need a man with your experience in politics and warfare at Driftmark and Slaver’s Bay. Head with our party and if Lord Tully refuses for you to go, you may turn back.”

Lord Mallister nodded. “I can accept this.”

“Let my daughter Alysane join you as well.” Maege Mormont added. “She’s a shipwright since birth, and a woman who knows what it means to rule. She’ll be of use.”

“Let my son Roger join as well.” Rodrik Ryswell added. “He’s a talented fighter and I can handle the cavalry by my own. You’ll need good men to come with you.”

Ned nodded to them both. If they were as talented as they said they were, it would prove to be an asset, especially since it cost little to try. He then turned to the trio who’d be sailing out soon.

“Make for White Harbour as soon as possible, and gather a fleet large enough to ferry troops. Lord Theon will have detailed instructions later on but they are to be delivered to you only when on the ships.” All three men nodded intently. “Furthermore, no Dothraki, those savages can stay at home, except if it is the Dragon’s Queen personal guard. No sellswords either, make sure the Second Sons or Company of the Cat stay well clear, by any means necessary.” The three men nodded again. “Good luck, my friends, the future of Westeros could very well hinge in the balance.”

“One more thing, Lord Stark, or should I say, your grace.” Harrion Karstark objected. “We have discussed the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, but what about the Iron Islands, the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne?”

“The Iron Islands will burn to the ground eventually.” Ned said with a hint of rage in his voice, “But that isn’t our priority. The Stormlands have aligned with Stannis, they are our enemies. As for the Reach and Dorne, I am counting on someone to bring them to our side.”

Please Jon, please bring them to our side, we need them now more than ever.

With that, the meeting was dismissed, and after discussing with several individual lords about the future assignments they’d be sent to, Ned joined Theon, who was readying his horse.

“Going already?” Ned asked.

“You said as soon as possible.” Theon answered. “If we ride hard we’ll be at Castle Cerwyn in two days, and at White Harbour in four.”

Ned chuckled.

“I guess you really wanted to go?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, quite the opposite. I wish you the best of luck, Theon.”

“You too, have fun holding the realm together.”

“Don’t mention it, I’m going to go for an early retirement I think.”

Theon chuckled.

“You’d have deserved it.” Theon then sat on top of his horse, hoisting himself on the saddle. “I wish you good luck my friend.”

“Good luck to you too.” Ned responded. “A lot rests on you now.”

Theon nodded. “Don’t get killed”, he said, as the castle’s portcullis opened.

“Nor you.” Ned whispered as Theon rode out of the castle with his men. A tear rolled down his cheek. His friends were now gone, all four on separate parts of the world. He could only hope everything would go well, but he couldn’t help feel in his heart that this wasn’t going to be.

He turned back to face the ramparts of Torrhen’s Square’s castle. He sighed deeply before walking towards the dissipating fog. He had a kingdom to rule, and ravens to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was LONG. Longer than I expected it to be. Hopefully this week's update will be nowhere as long as this, but a lot of things are happening and the wheel is turning fast. Next stop is Riverrun, better hold on tight, we're going to see how Robb manages to screw things up again. Don't forget to leave a like/kudos/comment if you enjoyed.


	25. Chapter XIV: Riverrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and the Tullys meet

**Chapter XIV**

**Robb VIII**

Robb scouted the battlements before him. The Lannister camp was in disarray, soldiers hurrying for their spears and shields and hadn’t noticed the host of northmen creeping in the woods behind them, thank god. Surprise was everything, and they needed to attack at dawn, to avoid Lannister scouts finding them out, as they’d arrived the night before and walked in complete silence, not even lighting fires that night. Brynden Tully had acknowledged the message and as soon as the sun set upon the horizon, his troops had massed at the Northern gates of Riverrun.

The lion trap was set, he had the bait, now all he had to do was for the westerlanders to take it, and then he could send in the cavalry to squash the Lannister host in front of the walls of Riverrun. The Blackfish’s plan was sound, he’d send in his troops to bait the Lannisters into committing their whole host, all the while holding reserves to stop the Lannisters from retreating when Robb would hammer them from the back.

Soon, he, the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark watched the battlefield as the Rivermen charged on the field, both hosts clashing with a deafening sound. No one moved a muscle, but Rickard Karstark did make a wave with his hand to order the men to get ready, but Robb barely acknowledged it. Instead his focus was on the battle in front of him. The Riverlanders were getting pushed back, but that was to be expected, all Robb needed to wait now was for the perfect opportunity.

He needed Kevan to be too far forward to be able to retreat back to the Golden Tooth, a decisive victory, squashing any chance for the Lannisters to reform a host and reinforce Tywin, allowing them to secure the passes and blockade King’s Landing from land. He just needed the Lannisters to push forward a bit more…but then the Blackfish committed his reserves. Shit.

Robb turned to Tormund on his right.

“Tormund, let the eagles loose, now!” Robb cried out as the large man acknowledged. Robb then turned to his left. “Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, sound the charge, we’re going in.”

Robb gulped, took a breath of fresh air, before reaching for his lance, all the while keeping a hand on Dark Sister, now refitted with a beautiful wolf pommel. This wasn’t the time for fear, nor the time to be brave, this was the time to survive. He raised his lance in the air and cried out with a deafening roar of his own:

“Charge!”

And so, hell was unleashed. Out of the woods came the northern cavalry, led by Rickard Karstark, the tall bearded man running at the spearpoint’s vanguard, while Robb stayed slightly behind, waiting for the first wave to crash into the Lannister rear. He could hear the footmen led by the Greatjon right behind him, likely followed by Tormund’s berserk free folk. He didn’t look back however, only forward, as he watched Grey Wind dodge several horses and disappear in the melee that was occurring in front of them. Soon enough, Robb’s spear collided with a Lannister soldier, ripping his armour up. He swiftly unhooked the spear, moving to several other soldiers swiftly, likely surprised by the charge from behind them.

The Lannisters were regaining their composure however, and at the sixth or seventh enemy, Robb lost count, his spear broke. He then unsheathed Dark Sister and started hacking away at anything with a red cloak approaching him, sometimes hitting something, sometimes nothing but air, relying on his horse to absorb the blow for him. It soon became too much for his mount, though, as the Rill Stallion broke and collapsed.

Robb didn’t have time to process what was happening or whether or not he’d been hurt, he had to get off his saddle and get back on his feet quickly. Luckily, not one soldier made a move to intercept him, and getting off was easy. He spared a moment to look around him, as he scouted the horizon, and soon found the fighting was dying off around him, the Westerlander host likely already routing. In the distance, Robb could make out several horses with coats of red making it out of the battlefield to his west. Shit.

Robb didn’t have time to curse as one man lunged at him with a sword. He was taken off guard but the man’s sword was no match for Dark Sister, who cut through the poorly-made metal easily, allowing Robb to rip the man’s belly open as the man watched his blade be split in two in shock.

“Lord Robb!” a voice called out, as he barely had time to wipe the blood off his face, unable to reach for the blood dripping around his ears under his helmet.

He turned around to see the Greatjon Umber with barely a scratch on his armour, the giant man instead having several red strokes along his chest plate.

“Lord Umber?” Robb cried out, attempting to make out something out of the chaos around him.

“The Lannisters are routing, but it seems their commander, Lord Kevan, has escaped.”

Robb looked around him, and indeed the battlefield seemed to have died down, with the chaos slowly subsiding into faint cries of pain and pleas on all sides.

“Can Lord Karstark give chase?” Robb asked, looking at his sword, whose valyrian features were slightly hidden by the blood on it. Did I really plow through that many enemies? I barely remember getting here, he thought. “Or our reserves perhaps?”

The Greatjon merely shook his head.

“Lord Karstark doesn’t have the men for a pursuit, especially with the Lannisters’ host on the southeastern side being mostly intact, and our reserved won’t be able to jump on them on time without proper scouting, they could still be marching into a trap.”

Robb sighed. He’d been so close, so desperately close to a decisive victory. He’d annihilated a whole host, fifteen thousand strong, but their leader had escaped, and there was the whole problem.

“Right, let us meet our allies then.” Robb gestured the Greatjon who nodded and opened up the way through the battlefield, where the last Lannisters left behind were surrendering amidst the mountains of corpses on each side.

He made his way up to where two men were standing, bearing the trout of the Tullys on their breastplates, the auburn beard of the man on his right making him instantly recognizable, but still, he didn’t want any mistaken identities.

“Edmure Tully, I presume?” he asked the bearded man.

“Aye.” The man answered. “To whom to I owe the pleasure.”

“My name is Robb Stark.” he answered, removing his helm to reveal his own auburn curls, without any beard, though, Robb insisting on being clean shaven. “Sorry to disappoint you, we chose to come to your aid instead of being sitting ducks at Darry.”

“Well you damn well fucked it all up!” the man to his left roared. “What the fuck took you so long?”

Robb raised an eyebrow as he looked the older man up and down. So, this is what the legendary Brynden “Blackfish” Tully looked like. Right.

“Took you so long?” Robb asked confused as ever. “I thought we agreed that you’d send in your centre only after the signal, which you did not do.”

“What do you mean?” the Blackfish roared as Robb could feel the Greatjon Umber nearly collapsing into a fit of laughter, disguising it as a cough behind him. “If we’d charged then we would be so close to the fighting that we’d be able to see the colour of the westerlander eyes, and our armies could well have started routing already!”

“And we’d have gotten Lord Kevan and his retinue!” Robb shouted in protest. “Instead, when he saw our host coming, he had time to escape west to the Golden Tooth.”

“I’ll take Lord Kevan fleeing over three thousand dead riverlanders any day, boy.”  
“Three thousand dead today, or five thousand dead tomorrow?” Robb answered. “Lord Kevan will be able to make it back and raise another host to aid his brother now.”

The Blackfish made a move to argue but to Robb’s surprise, calmed down and sheathed his sword, enabling Robb to sheathe his.

“We’ll speak about this later. In any case, thank you for answering our call. The Lannisters have been defeated, but we need to count our losses, no doubt Tywin will be sending reinforcements here soon.”  
“Aye.” Robb nodded. “You’re right. We can lay blames later, let us honour and bury or burn the dead today. Your riverlanders fought valiantly, we managed to capture five thousand Lannisters on the Southwestern side. The Eastern forces retreated to Harrenhal though.”

Robb looked at the eastern side, where the Westerlanders were already sounding a retreat in good order, and judging by the battered state of the Tully forces, there would be no pursuit.

The Blackfish then moved to speak, but Robb got startled by Tormund, who leapt to his side, his beard and axe both soaked in blood. The giant looked around and shrugged, nodded to everyone before turning to Robb and whispering in his ear:

“Lord Robb, I’ve heard Val is in need of you. The child’s coming.”

Robb’s face drained of colour as he recoiled in shock, waiting for Tormund to tell him it was all a joke, but the Giantsbane kept a stoic face. Shit, it’s happening, it actually is happening, he thought as he panicked more than when he charged into the Lannister rear. He turned back to both Tully lords and spoke hurriedly:

“You must excuse me my lords, it seems my wife is about to give birth.”

Robb took up the saddle offered by Rickard Karstark, who had joined them during their discussion with the Tullys.

“Lord Umber, you have the field.” He told the Greatjon as he saddled his second horse of the day, rushing with Tormund and Lord Karstark back towards camp.

Robb could now observe the sheer extent of the battle as he rode hard towards the wood where the northern camp was carefully camouflaged. Lannister soldiers were dead or wounded across the field, with little to no northern casualties. They were already routing, Robb thought, the victory belonged to the rivermen today, it would be hard to salvage command of the joint forces now, that honor surely belonged to Brynden Tully. But as he cleared the field and rushed into the woods, those thoughts disappeared.

Robb, Tormund and Karstark all leapt out of their horses, and rushed towards a smaller tent, located just behind the command tent, flying a grey direwolf and guarded by three free folk guards, and one Mormont. Robb just flew past them and entered the tent, where he saw Val lying on the makeshift bed, with a midwife, holding a small figure in her hands.

He rushed to her side immediately, and grabbed her hand. It seemed that she had endured the birthing process quite well, but Robb just wanted to make sure.

“Val, are you well?” Robb asked apologetically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there earlier…I…”

“It’s fine.” The wildling woman answered. “I am no southron woman, I do not need anyone to help me bring a child into the world. My only regret is I couldn’t be on the battlefield with you.” She tried to rise, but Robb quickly prevented her from doing so. Meanwhile, both Tormund and Rickard Karstark had entered the tent, but kept their distances.

“You need to rest.” Robb said sternly. “A birth is no small thing, you must be tired and in pain. You have to stay here. I’ll bring a carriage to bring you into Riverrun.”

“No carriage, Robb.” Val answered. “A horse will do. The pain is manageable and I’ll rest later.” She paused before changing the subject. “Do you wish to hold him?”

“Him?” Robb asked as he raised his hands towards the midwife, who promptly gave him the babe that was resting in her arms.

“Aye.” Val smiled. “A boy, healthy one too.”

“Did you name him?” he asked, too shocked to think properly as he held a child, his child in his arms.

Val shook her head. “We do not name children until their third name day beyond-the-wall.”

“Here we name a child when he is born.” Robb answered with a smile. “We’d need a northern name, one that is used both north and south of the wall.”

Val thought for a moment.

“How about Mance?”

Robb winced.

“I’m only joking.” She gave a wide smile. “Ulric, Lyarrak, Thormond, Aenar, Olaf are some of the names the southern clans give.”

“Olaf.” Robb answered with a sly smile. “Olaf sounds nice. Olaf Stark.”

“Olaf Stark.” Val nodded. “The heir to the north.”

Robb cradled the baby in his arms as both Tormund and Rickard Karstark approached without a sound, observing the figure in his arms.

“He has the Stark looks.” Rickard Karstark observed. The boy had the same nose and brow as Ned and Robb, and most importantly, he had dark, black hair matching Jon and Arya.

“Aye. But he has the build of one of ours.” Tormund commented, as the boy was still heavier than expected, with the physique one could expect from a wildling beyond-the-wall.

“Announce the good news, Lord Karstark.” Robb turned to him. “This is another reason to celebrate tonight.”

The usually brooding lord nodded with a small smile, before turning to Robb with a finger up in the air.

“I almost forgot with all of these news, Lord Robb.” Rickard Karstark handed him a sealed letter. “A messenger brought this a few moments ago, I didn’t want to intrude, but this might be a good time for me to give it to you.”

Robb nodded, and handed the baby for Val to hold, as he ripped open the seal of the letter and started reading. Quickly, he shouted for Rickard Karstark to stop, right as the commander of the northern horse was exiting the tent.

“You might want to read this.” Robb handed the confused lord the letter he’d read in an instant.

Robb hadn’t seen such a wide range of emotions cross a man’s face in such a small amount of time, but Rickard Karstark had likely gone through a bunch by the time he’d finished reading, handing him the letter once more.

“This will make the next meeting with the Tullys more than interesting.” He chuckled. “Especially since the next war council is scheduled for this afternoon, as Tarly should soon arrive. What about the last part, it isn’t written in the common tongue, but rather, weird symbols?”

“Aye.” Robb answered. “Code for me from my father. The last part doesn’t quite concern us yet, you need not worry about this.”

Rickard Karstark nodded.

“In any case such news cannot be delayed much more, we need to make for Riverrun as soon as possible.”

“I agree.” Robb answered with a nod. “Get the men ready. Tormund, saddle a horse for Val, we need to get her and Olaf installed in Riverrun as soon as possible, the portcullis of the main gates should have gone down by now.”

As quickly as the camp had been mounted, everything had been packed and installed on the fields closer to Riverrun, where Lannister prisoners were being lined up and herded into makeshift prisoner of war camps. Robb could only feel sorry for the men that probably wouldn’t see their homes for a long time, but he didn’t have time to worry about their treatment now, as he forwarded his horse into Riverrun’s walls.

He was surprised at the amount of smallfolk around, but remembered that Edmure was indeed actually quite caring of his people in the books, it would make sense he kept that sense of duty to his people here by protecting them from the ravaged countryside.

The Blackfish was waiting for them in the courtyard and as Robb unsaddled, the old trout spared a look at Val, who held Olaf in her arms. Robb made a move to help her down from her horse, but Val was as agile as ever, as if the birth of a child barely phased her.

“So, is she your wildling wife?” he asked bluntly.

“Aye, she’s Lady Val. And in her arms is my son, Olaf.”

To his surprise, the Blackfish kissed Val’s hand and smiled at the boy.

“A Stark boy in looks, through and through, your bannermen must be happy.” The Blackfish chuckled. “In any case I’ll have accommodations readied for Lady Val and your son. As a matter of fact, my nephew’s wife Roslin has just given birth as well, to a healthy boy, so they won’t be alone.”

“I thank you, Ser Brynden.” Robb answered politely.

“No need, we’re family after all.” The Blackfish gestured to a servant in Tully colours to come forward. “Bethany, please escort the Lady Val and her son to her quarters.”

“Her guards will have to come with her.” Robb quickly interrupted the Blackfish.

The old Tully answered with a nod, as Robb signalled the four men to follow the young girl to Val’s chambers. Robb approached Val and left her a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll check on you once this is over.”

“I look forward to it.” She answered with a smile.

With Val gone, Robb’s attention shifted back towards the Blackfish, who gestured him and the few lords following him to the war room, located a few steps over in Riverrun’s main tower, or dungeon, he wasn’t sure what to call it. As he and the lords entered, he was greeted by the sound of a middle-aged man’s voice.

“Ah, Lord Stark! We were expecting you! Quite a victory you’ve achieved.”

“Lord Tarly, it is a pleasure.” Robb nodded as he noticed the huntsman right under his mail. “You’ve made quite the journey.”

“A journey I’m afraid I made for nothing. Most of my host deserted for the kinslayer Stannis and all I’m left with is my men and a few crownlanders, not a host to be reckoned with I’m afraid.”

The room mumbled as the word kinslayer was spoken, before a lord Robb recognized as Tytos Blackwood spoke up.

“Kinslayer? Surely you cannot be serious as to believe these rumours?” the Lord of Raventree Hall scoffed.

“You might want to read this.” The Lord of Horn Hill retorted, unphased, handing a missive to the Blackfish, who read it calmly, before handing it to Edmure.

“It has been signed by representatives of four different kingdoms, possibly five.” The Blackfish noted.

“Loyalists to Renly, all of them, I bet.” A man in Vance colours spoke up.

“Including my niece, Catelyn.” The Blackfish put both fists on the table, looking straight at the Vance lord. You could hear a pin drop, and if Edmure hadn’t passed him the letter, he could have sworn the look the Blackfish gave the Vance turned him to stone.

“Do you suggest my niece is a liar?” the Blackfish continued.

“N…no…but she could have signed this under duress.” The Vance lord replied, but Ser Brynden just waved him off.

“When we were young, I taught her to code her signature in a way that would be unique if she was coerced into saying something she didn’t want to say, or something that was untrue, notably about the relationship with her future husband.” The Blackfish replied. “No offence meant, Lord Robb, this was years before she was betrothed to your father.”

“None taken.” Robb answered as he passed on the letter to Rickard Karstark, who was flanking his right.

“We devised this unique signature only she and I could understand.” The Blackfish continued. “And the signature on this paper isn’t one that suggests she was coerced into signing.”

“I beg your pardon, Ser Brynden. But if Stannis is a kinslayer, and Renly is dead, who do we bend the knee to? Who is the king now?” Lord Bracken asked.

“Certainly not the bastard Tywin Lannister plans on using as a puppet!” Lord Blackwood retorted.

The northmen all started snickering, and even Robb couldn’t repress a small chuckle.

“What are you lot laughing at?” Marq Piper asked with a scowl.

“Oh nothing.” Dacey Mormont replied with an innocent tone. “It is just nice to see you southrons try to decide on a king.”

“And you already have, I bet.” Edmure Tully asked sarcastically.

“Oh yes, we have.” The Greatjon countered. “We know no king but the king in the north whose name is Stark. Ned Stark, king in the North.”

“The king in the north! The king in the north!” the northmen shouted as Robb smiled from ear to ear, in front of the baffled riverlanders.

“Heh.” Brynden Tully chuckled. “I expected nothing less from you lot. But this still leaves us without a king to bend the knee to.”

“It’s fine, I believe we made the decision for you.” Lord Karstark chuckled.

“You don’t think we’re going to bend the knee to you?” the Blackfish stared at Lord Karstark wide-eyed.

“Mayhaps it is for the best…” Edmure thought aloud, but Robb cut them both off.

“We’re not asking you to bend the knee to my father. Rather, we’re giving you another choice. The Riverlands are difficult to defend, they have little natural boundaries aside from the Westerland marches in the West. In order for your lands to be properly defended, the Riverlands need to be part of a larger kingdom.”

The Blackfish nodded.

“I agree on that, Lord Robb, but I ask you again. Who do you wish for us to bend the knee to?”

“Well it is simple no? With the Baratheons wiped out, the crown goes back to the Targaryens. And there is one left…”

“You want us to bend the knee to the Targaryens? Have you gone mad?” the Blackfish cried out. “Do I need to remind you who rebelled against them?”

“It doesn’t rejoice me either, Ser Brynden. But we don’t really have a choice.” Robb retorted. “The girl has three fully grown dragons, and yes, it is true, not only a rumour. What do you think she’ll do to us when she inevitably comes back to Westeros?”

He could hear Edmure gulp.

“If we help her get her throne in exchange for no reprisals and an extension of territories, let’s say the incorporation of the Golden Tooth and Deep Den into the Riverlands…”

“Then we’ll be safe from any attack and we’ll be winning in the end…” the Blackfish thought. “But how can you guarantee she’ll keep her word?”

“Lord Manderly is currently leading a fleet to Meereen alongside Alysane Mormont, Theon Greyjoy, Roger Ryswell and Jason Mallister. The latter of which you can recall at any moment. Their objective is to get there, present our terms to the Dragon Queen and offer her and her armies, because, yes, she has an army of ten to fifteen thousand men, possibly more.” Robb noted. “And ferry them to Westeros. We need the realm to be united against the northern threat, and with fire such a powerful tool, we will need her dragons.”

The Blackfish nodded.

“Fair points, fair points. And the addition of the Golden Tooth and Deep Den could be good for our coffers…” Edmure answered in turn looking to his uncle.

“You’re the Lord of Riverrun, Edmure, you make the decisions, not me.”

Edmure drew in a deep breath.

“Assuming we bend the knee, I’ll ask for a few more conditions from the Dragon Queen. Firstly, extensive reparations from Tywin Lannister for the damage done to our lands.”

“That is fair. Although you’ll get that yourselves at this rate.” Robb answered.

“Secondly, I want Silverhill as well.” Edmure continued. “And finally, Lord Mallister enough. I’ll want two more riverlanders to head towards Maidenpool and join the ships you’ve set sail with, that is Symon Darry, Lord Raymund’s cousin, and Ser Tristan Ryger, one of my most trusted men.”

“Both acceptable terms, Lord Edmure, although you’ll have to negotiate Silverhill with her, though I doubt she’ll deny that request.”

Edmure turned to the lords assembled before them.

“I won’t make any decision without your backing my lords. If you wish to speak against this, now is the time.”

“If she has three fully grown dragons, and she comes here, and we’re enemies…if we can get anything out of it, I say we go for it.” Stevron Frey called out.

“I agree, as long as she leaves us alone and we get reparations, let us take the offer while we can.” Karyl Vance nodded.

“Aye. I don’t like the Targs, but I’ll take them over the Fiery Stag or the bastard any day.” Lord Mooton concluded.

Edmure nodded. “Ser Tristan, you and Lord Symon will ride to Maidenpool tomorrow, Lord Mooton will provide the ships for you to join the Northern fleet.”

“I’ll send a raven informing them of the reinforcements.” Robb answered. “They shouldn’t have weighed anchor yet; you’ll have time to catch them before they hit Driftmark”.

Robb looked at the room as everyone turned to Lord Tarly now. The old man just shook his head.

“And why would I pledge my allegiance? What do I get out of it? As far as I’m aware Tywin will try to sway the reach, I’ll have to follow my liege lord.”

“And you are a loyal man, Lord Tarly.” Robb poked him a little. “You fought for the Targaryens, beat Robert Baratheon at Ashford.”

“I bent the knee.”

“And now the Baratheons are dead, shouldn’t your allegiances shift back to the Targaryens.”

Randyll Tarly thought for a moment.

“I suppose. But if my liege lord calls for me to support a bastard…”

“As you say, he is a bastard. The Dragon Queen as three dragons, if the Reach stands in her way, then the Tyrells will be extinguished, my sister and mother excluded.” Robb continued to eye him. “And then we’ll need a new lord paramount of the Reach, and who better than a man who has been at her side since the first?”

Randyll Tarly chuckled.

“Aye, there’s some merit to that. I’ll think upon it, but right now we’ll need to crush the Lannister forces. I’ve been given an order by the late King Robert, and I intend to fulfil it.”

“Aye. This talk of kings and queens has slowed our conversation down, but Tywin has been pushed out of King’s Landing.” The Blackfish answered. “With Renly dead, he’ll be looking to speed back to the Rock and reunite with his brother, who is raising a second host with his cousin past the Golden Tooth.”

“And possibly ally with the Reach.” Robb muttered.

“He’ll be looking to reunite with his men saved from the slaughter here, this might leave us some time.” Rickard Karstark spoke up.

“Aye, but if he marches to Deep Den directly…” Edmure let that comment hang in the air.

“I still have ten thousand men at Pinkmaiden under Lord Piper’s command.” Brynden answered. “I’ll have them march south towards the Stony Sept to try and block the Blackwater Rush and the Goldroad. This will give us some time to reunite with them.”

“You cannot keep the Riverroad undefended.” Randyll Tarly spoke up. “Kevan Lannister could try to hit you from the rear.”

“He needs time to train his men, time he does not have. By the time he is at the gates of the Golden Tooth, we’ll have crushed Tywin’s host. In any case, I have a plan for that as well, that involves circumventing the Golden Tooth…” Brynden continued

Robb paused. So that’s how he got past it in canon, right.

“With fifteen thousand men from the northern host, plus your three thousand, Lord Tarly, and a further five thousand I can commit, we can have a host of more than thirty thousand ready to engage Tywin’s twenty-five thousand. I’ll leave ten thousand to defend the mountain passes in case of a Lannister counter-attack but that seems unlikely, with Deep Den under threat, Stafford and Kevan Lannister will likely move south.” The Blackfish continued.

“A sound plan. Engage Tywin Lannister around the Stony Sept or the Goldroad, stop him from making it West or South and then crush the reserve hosts at Deep Den and move onto the Rock…” Randyll Tarly answered “But who will lead the host, the young wolf, or yourself?”

Robb wasn’t ready for that question as all faces now turned to him, including the gazes of his own men. He knew he was under pressure, but there really was only one choice here.

“My uncle will have command.” He finally spoke up. “I’m young, and even if my host numbers half, I must admit I am quite inexperienced as my bannermen like to remind me. You are the veteran of three wars, Great-Uncle Brynden, and the victory today is as much yours as it is the north’s. You should lead.”

For once the Blackfish was dumbstruck, and it took a few moments to recollect himself.

“I thank you for the kind words, Lord Robb. It is settled then, I will lead the forces, but I trust each of you…” he pointed to both Robb and Randyll Tarly “Will want to manage your own forces. Do as you wish. We’ll leave in a day, time for all of us to get some rest, then we make for Pinkmaiden. It’s time to end this once and for all.”

“Winter is coming for Tywin Lannister…” Rickard Karstark muttered as the northern lords chuckled and roared in agreement.

Robb smirked. Winter was coming for Tywin, but it will also come with fire and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have to stop saying the next chapter will be shorter, because it always ends up longer... Well this marks the end of this small rotation of events occuring roughly around the same time. Next time we head towards Sunspear as Jon has a a small and a big problem. I won't promise it will be shorter because I'm already approaching 3k words at half. Anyways next chapter is in two weeks as I have another fic lined up first (yeah it's the Jon/Ari ship fic's first chapter who will come out this weekend, aiming for 30 chapters total but we'll see if that climbs up as we go). That said, hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to leave a like/kudos/comment if you enjoyed, it's always nice.


	26. Chapter XV: Desert Wolf

**Chapter XV**

**Jon IX**

I winced as the sun entered my room. I’d barely slept that night, thinking about this fateful day, thinking of how I needed to convince Doran to side with us in the war against Tywin and Stannis. I let out a deep sigh. This was going to be complicated. I’d woken up very early, pacing around my room to try and find the specific words that would bring him to our side, but this was harder than it looked, and I’d recited a thousand speeches in my mind without being able to find the one that would strike true.

Come on, I thought, how can this be so bad? Then I remembered. I’d have to convince him to enter a war with factions he’d probably know next to nothing about, then convince him of marrying his daughter without pressing a claim as king, and finally hope to have him and Oberyn use their influence in the Reach from the rebellion to prevent Mace from tipping the tables or doing something really stupid.

As dawn rose over my window, I looked out onto the Shadow City, as the sun’s rays started shining on the sea in the distance, dancing with the shadows of Sunspear’s skyline on the large beaches of the dornish capital. A beautiful sight on a beautiful day.

I looked around for Ghost, the white direwolf had made its way into my dreams that night again, that of a hunt in Sunspear’s small woods. He probably had gone to satiate his hunger by killing a deer or a few rabbits, and I didn’t worry about it too much, Ghost always made its way back to Sunspear, no need to check on where he was, by midday I’d find the direwolf asleep in my chambers or cooling off in the shade away from prying eyes.

Suddenly, a noise came from the door of my chambers. A few knocks in quick succession. Damn, I knew we were leaving early, but this early? Dawn barely broke…right. I looked around for my things, no time to think about speeches, I’ll just have to worry on the way, maybe ask Arianne and Oberyn what they think about the whole situation.

“I’ll be there in a moment!” I said, before packing a bag, sheathing my sword, as I rushed towards the door and opened it.

Suddenly I felt a jolt through my body, a deep pain going through me as I took two steps back. What the hell? Too surprised to scream, I didn’t have time to react to anything, what had happened? One minute I’m fine and the next…shit is that blood coming out of my…oh no.

“I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere, Jon Stark.”

A cry of pain finally came out as I felt the blood leaving the wound I desperately clutched as I grappled the wall, trying not to end up on the ground to at least having a fighting chance against the unknown assailant.

“Actually, I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I managed to blurt out between muffled cries of pain.

“Oh you don’t remember me?” the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light, the bloodied dagger in his hand well on display.

Suddenly, the realisation struck me. White hair and a black streak, purple eyes, punchable face…Gerold Dayne. Fuck me, I’d forgotten about him ever since I…well no, not me, but still, the force controlling me kicked his ass...what was that, five months ago?

He hadn’t appeared since and I’d just assumed he’d returned to High Hermitage and fucked off for a while. I cursed myself. Just because someone goes away doesn’t mean he won’t be a problem later.

“What, ran out of something smart to say?” he jested, pointing at my bloodied wound as I failed miserably to contain the blood from spilling on my chest.

Right, I had to make time. Gerold was a cocky fuck, need to keep him occupied, try to get a dagger, get the upper hand, immobilise him. Uhm…

“Why?” I simply asked, fumbling and bringing my right hand closer to the inside of my cloak where I had a secret dagger stored in case something happened.

“Well you should know that. See I cannot let you marry the princess…” Gerold Dayne started to play with the dagger like a shark turning around his prey, ready to strike a second deadly blow. “You see…the princess is mine, and mine alone. You are nothing but an insignificant member of a great house I’ll admit, but insignificant all the same, a legitimized bastard. Oh, bastards can rise high in Dorne, yes, but I draw the line at becoming a prince of Dorne.”

I continued to fumble, looking for the damn dagger. Where did I place it?

“And what makes you think you can get away with this?” I continued, trying to make as much time, knowing that the second strike could come any moment.

“Well, it’s simple, you attacked me first, and I defended myself. All I need to do is…AH!” he screamed in agony as I managed to slip out the dagger of my cloak and went for the first thing I managed to hit, being his elbow.

“You fucking northerner. I had my fun with you, now is the time to end you.” Gerold said as he looked at his wound again, sneering with anger. Wrong choice, bitch.

During the time it took for him to sneer that comment and look at the wound, I’d already removed the dagger and went for a second strike. Gerold managed to dodge out of the way though, and I missed his heart, going for the ribs, that must have hurt.

“When you can stab, stab, don’t talk.” I managed to blurt out as I felt the pain kicking in from the previously inflicted wound, the blood starting to flood out of the door next to me.

Wrong choice of words, I guess, since the High Hermitage knight tried to jab at me, but I managed to parry the blow with my left arm, holding the dagger a foot away from my face. This quickly had turned into a brawl as I felt him trying to reach for me with everything he had. The rest of the fight was blurry. He and I exchanged blows, as I hit him as he hit me, but I needed a specific place to hit.

“C’mon Ghost, what are you doing…” I mumbled as I tried to wrestle Gerold away from me, with no luck, he was gaining the edge.

“Ah, finally weakening I see.” Gerold laughed. “It was a fun fight, I’ll admit but…AAAH!” the knight cried in intense pain as a white figure lept onto him, tearing into the flesh of his white elbow.

Ghost ex machina, thank god.

I managed to fumble back onto him, before lunging at his heart, completely missing it and going for his nuts instead.

His cries of pain likely woke up all of the castle as I struggled to stay conscious, feeling more and more blood leaving my body. Finally, I managed to stab him one final time in the chest, as Ghost had already torn half his arm off. The knight of High Hermitage’s breaths became more and more erratic and I smiled, plunging my dagger deeper into his body.

“Yippee Kai Yay, motherfucker.” I finally managed to whisper in his ear, before I passed out.

When I woke up, it was with a huge sting of pain in my stomach as I tried to rise.

“Lie back down, Jon. Don’t rise too fast, the sudden movement might sew the wound open again.”

I looked up to see Prince Oberyn looking at me. Without a word, I nodded and brought myself back onto the bed.

“Maester Caleotte has managed to sew your wound neatly.” Oberyn continued. “You’ve had quite a rough fight, but only a few bruises, nothing that couldn’t be stitched up, a few minor scars and that dagger wound. It’ll leave a mark, but you should be able to walk and move around easily provided you don’t make any brash movements for a week.”

I nodded.

“Gerold?”

“Dead.” Maester Caleotte turned to me with a jug of milk of the poppy, which I immediately downed. “You can thank your wolf for that. A deadly wound at the neck and a few minor but painful ones around, one on the elbow, one on the ribs, one in the chest and one in the…”

“I guess I’ll have to thank Ghost.” I sighed with a small smile, all the while trying to rise, putting my two feet on the ground.

Oberyn rushed to help me, but I declined, trying to rise up without any help. It was a difficult task, but I still managed. Still, my feet were wobbly, it was a bizarre feeling.

“You can walk.” Oberyn smiled in amusement.

“I’m alive, that’s what counts the most.” I replied.

“You might not be for long if what my nice and your sister told me are true.”

I gulped.

“They know Gerold attacked me, right?”

Oberyn chuckled.

“Maybe…” he smiled as he opened the door, both Arya and Arianne rushing in, eyeing me up and down. Arya was the first to act, rushing to hug me, as I winced in pain and nearly fell down onto the bed.

“Careful Arya, my chest hurts.” I said as she quickly stepped back.

“You’re alive.” She smiled.

“I think so. Thanks to Ghost.”

“I’ll hug him later.” Arya nodded.

Arianne was next to lunge forward, avoiding my chest, but kissing me on the lips before I could even mutter a word. She then looked at me with a cold stare.

“If you ever give me a scare like this one, Jon Stark, I swear I’ll chase you through all seven hells to kill you again.”

“Ari…I…”

“No. I’m sorry, I should have told you about Gerold.” She sighed. “I knew he was obsessed, but I thought that obsession was with himself, not…me. I didn’t think he would…I’m sorry.”

She started tearing up but I stopped her by holding both hands to her face.

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known. I couldn’t have known. It isn’t your fault. Let’s just both be happy I’m alive and I can still use my body functions correctly.”

She smiled and nodded, and my attention shifted back to Oberyn.

“Prince Oberyn, when do we ride for the Water Gardens?”

“Jon, you cannot mean to go there in your state…I can handle my brother and I’ll deliver him your offer…”

“I have to do it.” I said. There was much Oberyn didn’t know, and he and Doran could fuck this up monumentally if I didn’t intervene. “I need to be there, I can’t explain it, Prince Oberyn, but I have to be.”

“Then let us wait a week till you’ve recovered enough.”

I shook my head.

“No, we must do it now. Time is running out, and it is of the essence right now. We cannot afford to lose a week.”

Oberyn sighed and looked at Arianne, then at Arya, who both nodded.

“Right. Fine. We’ll go as soon as I can get you a proper saddle. In the meantime, I want you to rest, are we clear?”

I nodded as they left the room, leaving me alone with Maester Caleotte.

“Oh gods, what have I gotten myself into?”

The maester just laughed.

“A whole lot of trouble I imagine. Now take this herb concoction, it should help fortify the body…”

Time flew by as we left the walls of Sunspear on our way to the Water Gardens. There had been rain in the afternoon we were supposed to leave, which meant I had one more day to recuperate from my wound. There was still pain whenever my mount hit an obstacle, but it was becoming more manageable, especially with Oberyn providing first aid when needed. God bless his training at the Citadel, that came in handy.

My heart started racing as the Water Gardens came into view once more. They’d hardly changed since I came there all these months ago. The palm trees were still standing tall above the richly decorated walls, fountains and pools. I don’t think I could ever stop marvelling at the time and effort it would take the gardeners to maintain such a beautiful place, who’d put most European haciendas to shame.

Finally, the pools and fountains gave way to a smaller, more private garden, where the Prince of Dorne was residing. Getting off my horse made me wince slightly, but I was relieved to see the pain was nowhere near as big as yesterday, although it was still a hinderance whenever I turned one way or another.

Doran’s figure finally came into view, the old prince still staring into the distance on his richly ornamented chair, flanked by several guards including the massive Areo Hotah.

“Welcome back to the Water Gardens.” The prince smiled. “Oberyn, Arianne, it is a pleasure to see you both. Jon Stark, it is a pleasure to see you as well. I’m sorry about the incident with Gerold, I hope you are well.”

“The wound is still painful, but I manage, my prince.” I bowed slightly.

Doran just nodded, his stoic face giving nothing away.

“Where are my manners?” he finally spoke. “Please, take a seat. I suppose you’ve come all this way with your health for an urgent reason?”

“Have you seen the Iron cage?” Oberyn spoke first, right to the point.

Doran winced and nodded.

“Aye. A terrifying sight, even Areo trembled slightly.” The prince continued to speak with a strange uneasiness “It seems Ned Stark was right after all, the rumours of what lies beyond the wall are true, and the dead are indeed marching south. I suppose you have come to ask that I send help to the Wall?”

I nodded.

“I thought as much. The truth is, I need to think about Dorne’s safety as well. If I call the banners now, when the rest of the kingdoms are at war…no I cannot. Houses Manwoody, Fowler, Dayne and Yronwood have sent help independently, and I won’t stop them, but I cannot call the banners right now. Not with war still on our borders.”

“Then you must understand that with such a threat, the realm must be united.” I stepped in. “If the dead come and we are squabbling amongst ourselves, the Wall won’t be able to hold them back.”

“What do you propose then?” Doran asked with a smile.

“I propose you join the alliance houses Stark and Tully have made to install a proper ruler on the throne.”

“Houses Stark and Tully have made a pact, to install whom upon the throne?” Oberyn asked as Arianne just smiled nonchalantly. “Not Tywin, I presume, Stannis then?”

“No. Not either of them.”

“Then who?” Oberyn asked, confused.

“Now, now, brother. Isn’t it obvious?” Doran asked with a smile. “They want to restore the Targaryens to the throne.”

“Aye. We’ve made a pact, to restore Daenerys Targaryen to her rightful place on the Iron Throne, in exchange for northern autonomy, territorial gains for the Riverlands, and assistance in the war to come.” I replied, seeing Doran’s smile quickly fall.

“And what would be in it for us?” the prince asked, deadly serious.

“An alliance, binding houses Martell and Targaryen through marriage.” I answered, drawing in a deep breath.

“Daenerys’ hand for Quentyn?” Oberyn asked

“No.” I inhaled and handed the letters I had kept in my coat to Doran. “Mine for Arianne’s.”

Doran read the letter and smiled, while Oberyn just seemed confused.

“You talked about an alliance with house Targaryen, not house Stark. Although I don’t object to the match, I fail to see how this gives us an alliance with the dragon Queen.” Oberyn continued.

“Well brother.” Doran handed his brother the letter. “It seems Ned Stark has played the whole realm for fools. I didn’t believe it when I saw the boy coming in here, but I realised it. Don’t you see it? The brow, the nose, the face?”

“No.” Oberyn shook his head. “It can’t be.”

“And yet, the letter confirms it.” Doran shook his head. “This is the proof that Jon Stark here is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.”

“Did you know?” Oberyn turned to Arianne who didn’t flinch.

“Of course, I knew, what do you think uncle?” she spat out. “That I would deny him because of his parents? Because Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other or because he took her forcefully? What difference does it make that he is Eddard or Lyanna’s blood, I ask you?”

“Rhaenys and Aegon are dead. He is alive.” Oberyn spat out. “He is an insult to our whole family do you not see it?”

“I don’t see shit, uncle.” The heir to Sunspear growled and rose up to face him. “I see a man worthy enough to be my consort, and his lineage should have nothing to do with him being able to breath air on this soil or not.”

“Brother, he is an insult to us, you cannot let him live.” Oberyn growled as he made a move towards me. I tried rising up, but my wound prevented me from going further than a few inches.

“An insult? To whom?” I looked him dead in the eyes. “I didn’t choose who birthed me. I didn’t ask to be born a Targaryen, what sins am I guilty of? I didn’t kill Rhaenys, I didn’t kill Aegon. I didn’t kill Elia, so what am I guilty of? Existing? Tell me Prince Oberyn, if you had been at the Tower, would you have been like Tywin Lannister, would you have killed me, poisoned me in my crib because I was an insult to your family?”

Those words seemed to have struck true as Oberyn finally realised what he was saying, and immediately sat back down, his head between his hands.

“No. No you’re right.” He said, shedding a tear. “I’m no better than Tywin for wishing any harm to an innocent person whose only crime is existing. I’m…I’m terribly sorry.”

“I can understand your desire for vengeance, Prince Oberyn.” I said, calmly, trying to forget the man wanted to have me killed a few moments ago. “And that’s exactly what I’m offering you. The Lannisters stand alone in open revolt. Tywin has nowhere to go, he’s stuck like a rat. But he can still try and raise forces in the Reach.”

“And Margaery Tyrell wants to be queen. Tommen Waters is available.” Arianne said softly. “We need to get to them first.”

“We need to stop them from doing anything stupid.” I added. “If they side with the Lannisters, they’ll be able to muster a huge host and allow Tywin to get a second try at King’s Landing and Riverrun. But when the Dragon Queen comes…”

“They’ll burn.” Doran nodded.

“I might be able to convince Willas to host a parley at Highgarden. He is still a friend of mine.” Oberyn finally spoke up. “If anything, we’ll see where the Reach stands, convincing Mace might be difficult, but he doesn’t run the Reach.”

“The Queen of Thorns does.” Arianne added. “If we get the Reach on our side, Tywin will be trapped. The Mountain is dead already, but both Tywin and Lorch live. This is our chance at vengeance.”

“This is your only chance at vengeance I might add.” I chimed in. “You have the best opportunity to get revenge on the Lannisters. This might be your only chance to do it yourselves. If you don’t…then let Robb Stark or Brynden Tully do it, but you’ll have wasted the past fifteen years planning revenge for nothing.”

“Hang on.” Doran added. “We haven’t talked about the terms of the alliance. I understand the marriage part, but you said you would declare for Daenerys.”

“I will.” I answered quickly. “Because my claim relies on the legitimization of a pretender king, and you are very much aware of that.”

Arianne raised an eyebrow, while Doran scowled.

“See, when we first met, I didn’t seem to understand why you kept insisting on the fact that I was born a Sand. But now I get it.” I chuckled. “You wanted me to pursue the Iron Throne. It wouldn’t be hard to then propose a match between Arianne and I, as you placed both our chambers next to each other, not a coincidence I imagine. This would give me the Dornish spears, and with the North, Riverlands and Vale, not counting a possible match with Quentyn, you could install me on the throne. And then get rid of me.”

Arianne stared dead into the eyes of her father, who was growing very uneasy.

“Oh, of course first you’d make sure I’d left a babe inside Arianne.” I continued “Boy or girl, it wouldn’t matter since you’d have arranged for me to declare Dornish law for the Targaryens. But then you’d either arrange an accident of some sort or just have me removed from power due to my name, which as I said, is based on the legitimization of a usurper. You’d then have your blood on the Iron Throne, with Arianne as queen, and it wouldn’t be difficult to have convinced me to take Oberyn as my hand, then as regent.”

“Surely you couldn’t have done this, father…” Arianne cut in as Oberyn reeled in shock.

“But have you thought about the consequences? I always thought you were an intelligent, calculating man. But what of the North, Vale, Riverlands? Would they just accept you removing me from power? What reason would they have not to go to war with you right away. And that’s not even taking into account the rest of the kingdoms. Sure, you’d have one on your side to marry the babe but what of the others? Would they accept the Dornish ruling the country? Remember the times where the kingdoms thought there was too much dornish influence at court because the Crown Prince married Elia? What would they think now with a dornish queen, a dornish regent and a half-dornish child? How many would turn onto you?”

“Is this true?” Arianne stood up in shock. “Did you really think this would work?”

“I only wanted what is ours, Arianne.” Doran tried calming her down. “Our blood on the Iron Throne, our right…”

“And what about me? Did you even think about me?” she cried out. “Did you really think I’d agree to becoming Queen, a toy only to whelp a babe, is that what you think of me?”

“Arianne I…” Doran pleaded, to no avail

“You only wanted what is best for me?” she scoffed. “But you didn’t even consider what I wanted. I wanted Dorne, father, I wanted to rule, and you’d have snatched that from me? My birthright? Is this why you secluded me in Sunspear without any power whatsoever? Why in seven hells did Jon teach me more in a year than you in twenty?”

“Arianne, you would…” Doran tried arguing.

“Have been queen. I’m very much aware.” She interrupted him. “But to whom? When you betrothed me to Viserys did you even think about my well-being. The boy had gone mad since he had to sell his mother’s crown. Would you have given me to a monster?”

“You didn’t know.” She said as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “You have spies on both sides of the Narrow Sea but you didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised your spies on both sides of the Narrow Sea didn’t tell you that you got played like a child.” I chimed in.

“What do you mean?” Doran asked, too shattered by her daughter’s words to be angry at the obvious slight.

“Who brokered the agreement?”

“The Spider.” Oberyn said confidently. I just smiled even more.

“Ah yes. The Spider. The most untrustworthy man in Westeros.” I laughed as I slowly stood up. “Now let us see the plan with Viserys. Marry Arianne to Viserys, then marry Daenerys to Khal Drogo, that give you an army, no, two armies.”

“I don’t follow.” Oberyn said, confused.

“You don’t? Well then let us see, what exactly would have happened if right after Robert Baratheon’s accident Dorne were found supporting Viserys Targaryen, the mad king’s son with the same madness in him, and to place him on the throne, an army of savages, reaving, raping and pillaging the land?” I asked. “Oh, there would be chaos of course, battles would have been fought and the realm shattered. And there would have appeared a hero Westeros needed to bring back order. The Spider’s pawn.”

“The little piece of shit…” Doran hissed at the realisation.

“The Young Griff, a Blackfyre spawn if you ask me, but it could as well be a low born.” I shrugged. “In any case, the Spider and his friends would have propped him up to be Aegon Targaryen, the son of Elia. And who would contest the claim? His face was barely recognizable when Tywin Lannister presented him to Ned Stark, Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon, figures who would already all be dead anyways? He’d have united the realm against Joffrey’s wrongdoings, the kid being as mad as the mad king, and against the foreign menace and the ambitious dornish. Maybe marry Margaery Tyrell to bring them to their side, or Sansa Stark perhaps? In any case you’d likely be dead at the end of it all, and your family forever attainted.”

Doran slammed the edge of his desk with his fist.

“Damn it!” he cried out. “I’ll need to…check this information. But this does make sense. A lot of sense…right. You said you knew about our wish to have our blood rule the Seven Kingdoms, correct?”

“I was aware, yes.” I said truthfully.

“Good. Then you came here with a marriage alliance, but no way of our blood sitting the Iron Throne?” he asked.

“Well, not exactly.” I said, leaning against a column as I felt my stomach hurt once more. “I hoped my northern friends would deliver a proposal for Daenerys. A marriage pact between our children and hers. If she has three dragons then no doubt, she will try to keep the bloodline pure. A cousin with a Targaryen father would do the job perfectly for one of her sons.”

“Hmm.” Doran thought. “This is what we will do. I will consent to you marrying Arianne, on several conditions.”

“Name them.” I asked as I felt Arianne was about to burst in rage at the audacity Doran had to make demands after he had pretty much insulted her already.

“First, I want the marriage to take place as soon as possible.” Doran said. “Since I am calling the banners against the Lannisters…yes Oberyn you may celebrate if you like…it’ll have to be closer to the border than here. And before anyone notices Arianne is pregnant.” Arianne’s eyes widened slightly. “Don’t act so surprised Arianne, Maester Caleotte was bound by oath to tell me. We’ll have the ceremony at Yronwood in two moons.”

“Thank you.” I answered. Doran merely nodded.

“It is the least I could do. If that is what Arianne wishes…”

“It is.” She answered with a smile

“Good.” He nodded. “The second is that you will support Quentyn’s suit for Daenerys’ hand.”

I smiled.

“Aye, I will.” I answered. “But may I make a suggestion?”

“You may.” Doran answered.

“Send him under escort. Sending Quentyn alone with a few friends won’t be enough to convince her of Dorne’s intentions. The North sent Theon Greyjoy, Wylis Manderly and Roger Ryswell. If the latest raven Robb sent me is correct, Symon Darry and Tristan Ryger will join Jason Mallister to represent the Riverlands.” I continued. “You need men you can trust, but you need experienced men to stop Quentyn from doing anything stupid. Also go for Meereen, that is where the Dragon Queen is headed.”

Doran eyed me for a moment before turning to Oberyn without a word.

“Oberyn, I want six war galleys to be ready to depart for Meereen. Send word to Quentyn, but also Cletus and Archibald Yronwood, Gerris Drinkwater, Ryon Allyrion, Daemon Sand, Deziel Dalt, Myles Manwoody, Ulwyck Uller, Quentyn Qorgyle and Daeron Vaith. And your daughters Nymeria and Elia. I want them all to sail under the Martell banner to bring her home and have her marry Quentyn.”

“Is it time for action now?” Oberyn smiled as he got up.

“It is.” Doran grinned. “Now we get revenge for Elia, with fire and blood.”

The old prince of Dorne then turned back to me and extended his hand.

“Welcome to House Martell, Jaehaerys.”

“A pleasure, but please, Jon is fine.” I said as I extended my hand, clasping his as I ignored the pain growing in my stomach as I had to bow slightly to reach his. “Now let us show the Lannisters why Dorne is Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken.”

Arianne quickly made her way to us, grinning from ear to ear.

“Winter is coming for House Lannister.” She spoke with a grin. “For Elia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with Chapter 15, yaaaay. Anyways this was once more longer than I expected to be, and is more of a "filler" chapter although it sets more of the Meereen shenanigans in motion. I'm not really looking forward to how I'm going to piece everything together there, but I'll figure it out. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, which was originally supposed to be cut in two at the passing out point, but it really was a super short chapter if I kept that in, so...yeah it looks weird now, and there's no cliffhanger. That said hope you enjoyed.


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